




o 

*’ o nO^ ^ 9 ^ ^ , 



iP 'VV 

" 0^ - 

4?^ .i^.% " 

; 



A V/ ^ ♦ o « o ’ 

O' 

« 




)■/ ^ • 

‘‘ 4^ ■‘<'*rr‘ ’ <\ ■ '<, •- 

fV o *• • <J^ . 1 

C 'J * ♦ O AX • *• ' • i. 

o/rTs^iL^^ 4> -ft 


-‘ / ^ 


rfv 



oy 



.I-' 'o^ -*rr,-’ 

^ 40^ 4«**/ 4V <* ' 

’-*» %• ^ 4 ' .‘>5IIK' «,'' .4! 

■’\<'^ .0^^ *-v-— -,»- X , 

/ /■^y'-" .Z' .'■^‘’ 










1 






b V 

<^o *7^7- O'" 

. C' * 0 ^ *«•• 






« e 



o ^ ^ 

‘' « - o . V • ‘ 


.'«' ♦'jAWa’o 

U’ /'■^ 


’ v'V 'o.’i'* *0 

C . 

; ^ ' 

o' 





IV' jy oL^'* ■> ^ 





<r^ 't’ • * ^ 








V i S -Ss, Y '-» • ■ ' * Kr *.7'^ V ' * «. i V, - ' , V'. •* » 

•' sssi^^r^’:43s«iHi , , ’ ' ‘-■' • -^ • • •■•' . 


I < 




.* • 



> 




i' « 




!: y>;^ 


y 




.r-"- 


. , . , i i ■ 

«»f. — ^'-■' 


• T , < 


mm. 





4 #,* 







» - 

‘••.U 


i •• 






i; 






y» f -r »y, ' ' yj' 

■• 4 / . 6 ^ '\' 




< « 


f* 



« -r',;'' 


I 

.'Y 




• , M^»>. JC^* 

■ : 


J. 




• f 


* '.Vj. 


- I-I 


: .r. • 

»• >. I 


\ . 


►-. ' 7r??\ 


■» - 


. I 

•k ' ■• 
. \ 


, * 


•. ^ A 


’ - - '•• 




* ' 


<</ • ' 

* » 

». 


y • \ 


» "i v ' 

‘ -T -‘■■’'Vv 


f 


F 


% 


A ■ V f " ’ ^ i' vp ‘ ’■ •' 

w;»-- \ / i;* ; N. • :a 

i ■ ‘'^1/ , *. 

^ . T*. I • *’•. . 5 ? V- •. ^ ^ 


I ' 


l-F 


) 


t.'* :.U. 


• . ♦ 
T 



• * >• ^ . "■ • * 


-* ■ '•^■‘^'jL <'k/ * * 

^■.■'■'V /- ■ . *■' ^ ^ ; ■ 

. ji ^ “ 


1/ 





•xs ; 


^ ' • 

•• 

Y- '..r^i 


k I’ 


• " r 


• ^ ‘w . . ,♦; *I\ .A^v#” , -• r . /• jr 

' <•' ■’ ■'^.-- 


/ 

y ' ^ 


* » 








*. •- 


' - *4 


I 4 ‘» 


I 


. f 


•^m\ * 


• w -'vv,- 

^ ,. ^. ;.■ '‘-v/iSmb 

. ^ ^ Aim 


\ 



» • 

j\ 


/i^ 


t 

,1 




'71' > 


‘ 2' ' > 
' •/ ?! 






y. 

•> 





it- 


‘ • '•<* ' 'S'-; 

f~ . <^ • ,.'y 





^ > 


: 


t 



.s%?i 


. w 


:i^ 


I . ^ 

. * 






4 I 4 


I 


» /■ 

r p 


%• 

V • 

4 

1 •'- 


.• /a •’ ' 


; ‘'■'if 




p f 


r 

4 


J, 


I. 


1 j ♦ 


V . ^ ■ 


u / 


* ■ * >r 




\ 

% .« 


-‘'^m 






.y 


r*- M . * : v . i ;, 


'/ I 





' > 

Silver Pitchers: 

AND 


Independence, 


^ Centennial ILclje 


3 & cr' ' 


•,**s*H 


By LOUISA M. ^LCOTT, 

ASmOM . OP “little women,” “an old-fashioned girl,” “little men, ' 
“bight COUSINS,” “work,” “ hospital skelches,” etc. 


/ 



> » o 

3 ft 



BOSTON: 

LITILE, BROWN, AND COMPANY, 

1903 


/■ 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

may 7 1904 



s5- 


j 


Copyright, 

Bt Louisa M. Alcott. 
1876. 



University Press: John Wilson & Son, 
Cambridge. 


CONTENTS 


PAoa 

Bilter Pitchers 1 

Anna’s Whim 47 

Transcendental Wild Oats 79 

The Romance of a Summer Day 102 

My Rococo Watch 136 

By the River 149 

Letty’s. Tramp 177 

Scarlet Stockings 205 

Independence : A Centennial Love Story . , 237 



... 


/ 

y 


> ' 


\ • 







> ’ 


;> /• ^ ; 

.•r.‘ - ' . , ». 

f'.\ • ■ •/■ f/ I , * 

/•'*.'■ 'rMl^ ■ % . r'-:.-- 


vB 


t 

' I 

• I 


‘ •. ' *1 • 

{ < 


^ « 


V 

I J 

I 

■\ 


V •"^ 

>*• • ^./ .• 




t • 


■ 1 >' - 


, •' 


■■ ■ .'-r 

•• « ••S.V-: ."v 


V 

» p 


ff 


'>> 


<0 


. .*♦ 


r 

I i «* 

% 


» • * I . ^ 

At 

'■■' J' I ' * 

i * 


» fi 




- -v W- i . . -• ■ ' 

' \v4‘f > i " ) '• • ‘ ^ ‘ 

/ . \. ■ . . 


V 

■• s 


,y 




► . 


,\ 


. . wm ■ 

. ^.■: ' mM'- 

- ■ 1 




V 

^ 






V < 


i 


I 


^ ;'■ ' ' X*' ' ,-^ V 






i.: 




» 

t » 


.'»v 




r' C •'• 


/ '^‘ZSUBM’' V ; 'V ,v»- 


' V 

f 


c I# 


/- • • . • U-. jcr , 




'* 


("ij 


'V ‘ ■■ ' 

■' /'i' •' . ■ -><’ * \ ) 


/ \‘ 

••' A 





»■ - 

' u • 




I ) 




\ 




» “ .i 


1 

‘i 


, f 

■ < ■• 


• . • ' 
n I 




t 


♦ *» 




'X ' 


i 


\ 

t 


\. .v'^;, ,• \,’ ^ ' t *‘.' .;‘ V • 

*' ' . ' A ' ' A ' ■*< • V' / •* J ^ I ' '' 

■‘ T. . •. • 1 * -• ; /■ 'i't ' \ 

• \' 'I • 

/.^v , n •*•.•■ ,. • 


« I •« 


i t 




(. 




■Tl' • 

^va 

.v^V • i 






> 'l » ‘ 


l\ [•^"^ ■ ..rir’ 4 


) ^ 


■ ’ C.fi^ . 


• r 



i 



y 



'•' . ' ^’1-46 '■ ' ■ 'L-. • '■■>^-1^.- 




HlV • 

' 'r‘V' ■ 



. ''' 1 







iT 




Vj J 4 ^ ^ 

• : J'J, 

I . . . I * ^ A 1 ' 




: s 


' t • .»*A. 

.i, 



8TLVEE PITCHERS. 


CHAPTER 1. 

HOW IT BEGAN. 

** can do nothing about it except show oui 

displeasure in some proper manner,” said 
Portia, in her most dignified tone. 

“ X should^ike to cut them all dead for a year to 
come ; and Pm not sure that I won’t ! ” cried Pauline, 
fiercely. 

“We ought to ma k^ it impossible for such a thing 
to happen again; and I think we might^^ added Pris- 
cilla, so decidedly that the others looked at her in sur- 
prise. 

The three friends sat by the fire “talking things 
over,” as girls love to do. Pretty creatures, all of them, 
as they nestled together on the lounge in dressing- 
gowns and slippers, with unbound hair, eyes still bright 
with excitement, and tongues that still wagged briskly. 

Usually the chat was of dresses, compliments, and 
all the little adventures that befall gay girls at a merry- 
making. But to-night something of uncommon inter- 
est absorbed the three, and kept them talking earnestly 
long after they should have been asleep. 

Handisome Portia looked out from her blonde locks 
with a disgusted expression, as she sipped the chocolate 
1 


2 


SILVER PITCHERS, 


thoughtful mamma had left inside the fender. Rosy- 
faced Pauline sat staring indignantly at the fire ; while 
in gentle Priscilla’s soft eyes the shadow of a real sor- 
row seemed to mingle with the light of a strong deter- 
mination. 

Yes, something had happened at this Thanksgiving 
festival which much offended the three friends, and de- 
manded gi-ave consideration on their part ; for the 
“Sweet P’s,” as Portia, Pris, and Polly were called, 
were the belles of the town. One ruled by right of 
beauty and position, one by the power of a character 
80 sweet and strong that its influence was widely felt, 
and one by the wit and winsomeness of a high yet 
generous spirit. 

It had been an unusually pleasant evening, for after 
the quilting bee in the afternoon good Squire Allen 
bad given a bountiful supper, and all the young folks 
of the town had joined in the old-fashioned games, 
which made the roof ring with hearty merriment. 

All would have gone well if some one had not pri- 
vately introduced something stronger than the cider 
provided by the Squire, — a mysterious and potent 
something, which caused several of the young men to 
betray that they were decidedly the worse for their 
libations. 

That was serious enough; but the crowning iniquity 
was the putting of brandy into the coffee, which it was 
considered decorous for the young girls to prefer instead 
of cider 

Who the reprobates were remained a dead secret, foi 
the young men laughed off the dreadful deed as a joke 
and the Squire apologized in the handsomest manner. 


EOW IT BEGAN. 


3 


l5ut the girls felt much aggrieved and would not be 
appeased, though the elders indulgently said, “ Young 
men will be young men,” even while they shook their 
heads over the pranks played and the nonsense spoken 
under the influence of the wine that had been so slyly 
drank. 

Now what should be done about it? The “Sweet 
P’s ” knew that their mates would look to them for guid- 
ance at this crisis, for they were the leaders in all things. 
So they must decide on some line of conduct for all to 
adopt, as the best way of showing their disapproval of 
such practical jokes. 

When Pris spoke, the others looked at her with sur- 
prise ; for there was a new expression in her face, and 
both asked wonderingly, “ How ? ” 

“ There are several ways, and we must decide which 
is the best. One is to refuse invitations to the sociable 
next week.” 

“ But I’ve just got a lovely new dress expressly for 
it ! ” cried Portia, tragically. 

“ Then we might decline providing any supper,” be- 
gan Pris. 

“ That wouldn’t prevent the boys from providing it, 
and I never could get through the night without a 
morsel of something ! ” exclaimed Polly, who loved to 
see devoted beings bending before her, with offerings 
of ice, or struggling manfully to steer a glass of lemon- 
ade through a tumultuous sea of silk and broadcloth, 
feeling well repaid by a word or smile from her when 
they landed safely. 

“ True, and it would be rather rude and resentful ; 
for I am sure they will be models of deportment next 


4 


SILVER PITCHERS. 


time ” and gentle Pris showed signs of relenting, though 
that foolish joke had cost her more than either of the 
others. 

For a moment all sat gazing thoughtfully at the fire, 
trying to devise some awful retribution for the sinners, 
no part of which should fall upon themselves. Sud- 
denly Polly clapped her hands, crying with a trium- 
phant air, — 

“ I’ve got it, girls ! I’ve got it ! ” 

“ What ? How ? Tell us quick ! ” 

“We will refuse to go to the first sociable, and that 
will make a tremendous impression, for half the nice 
girls will follow our lead, and the boys will be in de- 
spair. Every one will ask why we are not there ; and 
what can those poor wretch es say but the truth ? Won’t 
that be a bitter pill for my lords and gentlemen ? ” 

“ It will certainly be one to us,” said Portia, thinking 
of the “ heavenly blue dress ” with a pang. 

“ W ait a bit ; our turn will come at the next sociable. 
To this we can go with escorts of our own choosing, or 
none at all, for they are free and easy aflairs, you know. 
So we need be under no obligation to any of those 
sinners, and can trample upon them as much as we 
please.” 

“ But how about the games, the walks home, and all 
the pleasant little services the young men of our set 
like to ofiEer and we to receive ? ” asked Portia, who had 
grown up with these “ boys,” as Polly called them, and 
found it hard to turn her back on the playmates who 
had now become friends or lovers. 

“ Bless me ! I forgot that the feud might last more 
than one evening. Give me an idea, Pris,” and Pollv’a 
triumph ended suddenly. 


EOW IT BEGAN. 


5 


“I will,” answered Pris, soberly; ^‘for at this in- 
formal sociable we can institute a new order of things. 
It will make a talk, but I think we have a right to dc 
it, and I’m sure it will have a good effect, if we only 
hold out, and don’t mind being laughed at. Let us 
refuse to associate with the young men whom we know 
to be what is called ‘ gay,’ and accept as friends those 
of whose good habits we are sure. If they complain, 
as of course they will, we can say their own miscon- 
duct made it necessary, and there we have them.” 

“ But, Pris, who ever heard of such an idea ? People 
will say all sorts of things about us!” said Portia, 
rather startled at the proposition. 

“ Let them I I say it’s a grand plan, and I’ll stand 
l>y Pris, through thick and thin ! ” cried Polly, 
who enjoyed the revolutionary spirit of the thing. 

“We can but try it, and give the young men a lesson ; 
for, girls, matters are coming to a pass, when it is our 
duty to do something. I cannot think it is right for us 
to sit silent and see these fine fellows getting into bad 
habits because no one dares or cares to speak out, 
though we gossip and complain in private.” 

“ Do you want us to begin a crusade ? ” asked Portia, 
uneasily. 

“Yes, in the only way we girls can do it. We can’t 
preach and pray in streets and bar-rooms, but we may 
at home, and in our own little world show that we want 
to use our influence for good. I know that you two 
can do any thing you choose with the young people in 
this town, and it is just that set who most need the sort 
of help you can give, if you will.” 

^^You have more influence than both of us put to- 


6 SILVER FITCEERS. 

gether ; so don’t be modest, Pris, but tell us what to do, 
and I’ll do it, even if I’m hooted at,” cried warm-hearted 
Polly, won at once. 

“ You must do as you think right; but I have made 
up my mind to protest against wine-drinking in every 
way I can. I know it will cost me much, for I have 
nothing to depend upon but the good opinion of my 
friends; nevertheless, I shall do w’hat seems my duty, 
and I may be able to save some other girl from the 
heart-aches I have known.” 

“You won’t lose our good opinion, you dear little 
saint ! Just tell us how to begin and we will follow our 
leader,” cried both Portia and Polly, fired with emula- 
tion by their friend’s quiet resolution. 

Pris looked from one to the other, and, seeing real 
love and confidence in their faces, was moved to deepen 
the impression she had made, by telling them the sad 
secret of her life. Pressing her hands tightly together, 
and drooping her head, she answered in words that were 
the more pathetic for their brevity, — 

“ Dear girls, don’t think me rash or sentimental, for 
I know what I am trying to do, and you will under- 
stand my earnestness better when I tell you that a ter- 
rible experience taught me to dread this appetite more 
than death. It killed my father, broke mother’s heart, 
and left me all alone.” 

As she paused, poor Pris hid her face and shrank 
away, as if by this confession she had forfeited her place 
in tlie respect of her mates. But the girlish hearts 
only clung the closer to her, and proved the sincerity 
of their afiection by sympathetic tears and tender words, 
as Portia and Polly held her fast, making a prettier 


HOW IT BEGAN. 


7 


group than the marble nymphs on the mantelpiece; 
for the Christian graces quite outdid the heathen ones. 

Polly spoke first, and spoke cheerfully, feeling, with 
the instinct of a fine nature, that Priscilla’s grief was 
too sacred to be talked about, and that they could best 
show their appreciation of her confidence by proving 
themselves ready to save others from a sorrow like 
hers. 

“ Let us be a little society of three, and do what we 
can. I shall begin at home, and watch over brother 
Ked; for lately he has been growing away from me. 
somehow, and I’m afraid he is beginning to be ‘ gay.' 
I shall get teased unmercifully ; but I won’t mind if 1 
keep him safe.” 

“ I have no one at home to watch over but papa, and 
he is in no danger, of course ; so I shall show Charley 
Lord that I am not pleased with him,” said Portia, little 
dreaming where her work was to be done. 

“And you tvill set about reforming that delightful 
scapegrace, Phil Butler ? ” added Polly, peeping archly 
into the still drooping face of Pris. 

“ I h^ve lost my right to do it, for I told him to-night 
that love and respect must go together in my heart,” 
and Pris wiped her wet eyes with a hand that no longer 
wore a ring. 

Portia and Polly looked at one another in dismay, 
for by this act Pris proved how thoroughly in earnest 
she was. 

Neither had any words of comfort for so great a 
trouble, and sat silently caressing her, till Pris looked 
up, with her own serene smile again, and said^ as if to 
change the current of their thoughts, — 


8 


SILVER PITCHERS. 


We must have a badge for the members of our new 
society, so let us each wear one of these tiny silver 
pitchers. I’ve lost the mate to mine, but Portia has a 
pair just like them. You can divide, then we are all 
provided for.” 

Portia ran to her jewel-case, caught up a pair of 
delicate filigree ear-rings, hastily divided a narrow velvet 
ribbon into three parts, attached to each a silver pitcher, 
and, as the friends smilingly put on these badges, they 
pledged their loyalty to the new league by a silent 
good-night kiss. 


CHAPTER II. 

A DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 

Great was the astonishment of their “ set ” when it 
was known that the “ Sweet P’s ” had refused all in- 
vitations to the opening sociable. 

The young men were in despair, the gossips talked 
themselves hoarse discussing the affair, and the girls 
exulted ; for, as Polly predicted, the effect of their first 
step was “ tremendous.” 

When the evening came, however, by one accord 
they met in Portia’s room, to support each other 
through that trying period. They affected to be quite 
firm and cheerful ; but one after the other broke down, 
and sadly confessed that the sacrifice to principle was 
harder than they expected. What added to thei? 


A DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 9 


anguish was the fact that the Judge’s house stood just 
opposite the town-hall, and every attempt to keep away 
from certain windows proved a dead failure. 

“It is so trying to see those girls go in with their 
dresses bundled up, and not even know what they 
wear,” mourned Portia, watching shrouded figures trip 
up the steps that led to the paradise from which she 
had exiled herself. 

“ They must be having a capital time, for every one 
seems to have gone. I wonder who Phil took,” sighed 
Pris, when at length the carriages ceased to roll. 

“ Girls ! I wish to be true to my vow, but if you don’t 
hold me I shall certainly rush over there and join in 
the fun, for that music is too much for me,” cried Polly, 
desperately, as the singing began. 

It was an endless evening to the three pretty pioneers, 
though they went early to bed, and heroically tried to 
sleep with that distracting music in their ears. Slumber 
came at last, but as the clocks were striking twelve a 
little ghost emerged from Portia’s room, and gliding 
to the hall window vanished among the heavy damask 
curtains. 

Presently another little ghost appeared from the same 
quarter, and stealing softly to the same window was 
about to vanish in the same capacious draperies, when 
a stifled cry was heard, and Portia, the second sprite, 
exclaimed in an astonished whisper, — 

“ Why, Pris, are you here, too ? I saw Polly creep 
away from me, and came to take her back. How dare 
you go wandering about and startling me out of my 
wits in this way ? ” 

“I was only looking to see if it was all over,” 


10 


SILVER PITCHERS. 


quavered Pris, meekly, emerging from the right-hand 
curtain. 

“ So was I ! ' laughed Polly, bouncing out from the 
left-hand one. 

There was a sound of soft merriment in that shadowy 
hall for a moment, and then the spirits took a look at 
the world outside, for the moon was shining brightly. 
Yes, the fun was evidently over, for the lamps were 
being extinguished, and several young men stood on 
the steps exchanging last words. One wore a cloak 
theatrically thrown over the shoulder, and Polly knew 
him at once. 

“ That’s Ned ! I must hear what they are saying. 
Keep quiet and Pll listen,” she whispered, rolling her- 
self in the dark folds of the curtain and opening the 
window a crack, so that a frosty breeze could blow 
freely into her left ear. 

“ You’ll get your death,” murmured Portia, shivering 
in her quilted wrapper. 

“ O, never mind!” cried Pris, who recognized the 
tallest man in the group, and was wild to catch a word 
from “ poor Phil.” 

“ They think they’ve done a fine thing ; but, bless 
their little hearts, we’ll show that we can do without 
them by not asking them to the next sociable, or taking 
notice of them if they go. That will bring them round 
without fail,” said one masculine voice, with a jolly 
laugh. 

“ Many thanks for letting us know your plots, Mr. 
Lord. Now we can arrange a nice little surprise for 
yow,” and Portia made a scornful courtesy in the dark. 

“Faith! I don’t blame the girls much, for that wag 


A DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE, 11 


a confoundedly ungentleraanly trick of yours, and I’ll 
thank you not to lay any of the blame of it on me ; I’ve 
got as much as I can carry without that,” said the tall 
figure, stalking away alone. 

“ I’m so glad to know that Phil had nothing to do 
with it I ” breathed Pris, gratefully. 

“ Come on, Charley ! I must get home as soon a« 
possible, or Polly will be down on me, for she has 
taken a new tack lately, and holds forth on the error 
of my ways like a granny.” 

“ Won’t I give Ned an extra lecture for that speech, 
the rascal ! ” and Polly shook a small fist at him as her 
brother passed under the window, blissfully unconscious 
of the avenging angels up aloft. 

“’Tis well; let us away and take sweet counsel how 
we may annihilate them,” added Polly, melodramati- 
cally, as the three ghosts vanished from the glimpses of 
the moon. 

Every one turned out to the sociables, for they were 
town affairs, and early hours, simple suppers, and games 
of all sorts, made it possible for old and young to enjoy 
them together. 

On the night of the second one there was a goodly 
gathering, for the public rebuke administered to tho 
young men had made a stir, and everybody was curious 
to see what the consequences would be when the 
parties met. 

There was a sensation, therefore, when a whisper 
went round that the “Sweet P’s” had come, and a 
general smile of wonder and amusement appeared when 
the girls entered, Portia on the arm of her father, Polly 
gallantly escorted by her twelve-year-old brother W ill, 


12 


SILVER PITCHERS. 


and Pris beside Belinda Chamberlain, whose five feel 
seven made her a capital cavalier. 

“ Outwitted I ” laughed Charley Lord, taking the 
joke at once as he saw Portia’s gray-headed squire. 

“ I knew Polly was plotting mischief, she has been 
so quiet lately,” muttered Ned, eying his little brother 
with lofty scorn. 

Phil said nothing, but he gave a sigh of relief on 
seeing that Pris had chosen an escort of whom it was 
impossible to be jealous. 

The Judge seldom honored these gatherings, but 
Portia ruled papa, and when she explained the peculiar 
state of things, he had heroically left his easy chair to 
cast himself into the breach. 

Master Will was in high feather at his sudden pro- 
motion, and bore himself gallantly, though almost as 
much absorbed by his wristbands as Mr. Toots ; for 
Polly had got him up regardless of expense, with a 
gay tie, new gloves, and, O, crowning splendor ! a red 
carnation in his button-hole. 

Buxom Belinda was delighted with the chance to 
play cavalier, and so get her fair share of all the fun 
going, for usually she stood in a corner smiling at an 
unappreciative world, like a patient sunflower. 

The faces of the young men were a study as the 
games began, and the three girls joined in them with 
the partners they had chosen. 

“ The Judge is evidently on his mettle, but he can’t 
stand that sort of thing long, even to please Portia; 
and then hei Majesty will have to give in, or condescend 
to some one out of our set,” thought Charley Lord, long 
ing already to be taken into favor again. 


A DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 13 


“ Polly will have to come and ask me to lead, if she 
wants to sing her favorite songs ; for Pll be hanged if I 
do it till she has humbled herself by asking,” said Ned, 
feeling sure that his sister would soon relent. 

“ If it was any one but Belinda, I don’t think I 
could stand it,” exclaimed Phil, as he watched his 
lost sweetheart with wistful eyes ; for, though he sub- 
mitted to the sentence which he knew he deserved, he 
could not relinquish so much excellence without deep 
regret. 

But the young men underrated the spirit of the girls, 
and overrated their own strength. The “ Sweet P’s ” 
went on enjoying themselves, apparently quite indiffer- 
ent to the neglect of their once devoted friends. But 
to the outcasts it was perfectly maddening to see 
stately Portia promenading with stout Major Quacken- 
boss, who put his best foot foremost with the air of a 
conquering hero; also to behold sweet Pris playing 
games with her little pupils in a way that filled their 
small souls with rapture. But the most aggravating 
spectacle of all was captivating Polly, chatting gayly 
with young Farmer Brown, who was evidently losing 
both head and heart in the light of her smiles. 

“ It’s no use, boys ; I must have oile turn with Portia, 
and you may hang me for a traitor immediately after- 
ward,” cried Charley at last, recklessly casting both 
pride and promise to the winds. 

“ O, very well ; if you are going to give in, we may 
as well all eat humble pie ‘ together,’ ” and Ned imitated 
his weak-minded friend, glad of an excuse to claim the 
leadership of the little choir who led off the weekly 
“ sing.” 


14 


SILVER PITCHERS. 


Phil dared not follow their example as far as Pris 
was concerned, but made his most elegant bow to 
Belinda, and begged to have the honor of seeing her 
home. His chagrin may be imagined when the lofty 
wall-flower replied, with a signiflcant emphasis that 
made his face burn, — 

“Xo, thank you. I need a very steady escort, for V 
shouldn’t take a fall into a snow-bank as lightly as Pria 
did not long ago.” 

Charley met with a like fate at Portia’s hands, foi 
she outraged established etiquette by coldly declin- 
ing his meek invitation to promenade, and two minutes 
later graciously accepting ’ that of an unfashionable 
young man, who was known to belong to a temperance 
lodge. 

But Ned’s repulse was the most crushing of all, tor 
in reply to his condescending hint, — 

“ I suppose people won’t be satisfied unless we give 
them our favorites, hey, Polly ? ” he received a verbal 
box on the ear in the sharp answer, — 

“We don’t want yow, for I intend to lead myself, 
and introduce a new set of songs which won’t be at all 
to your taste.” 

Then, to his utter amazement and confusion. Miss 
Polly began to sing one of the good old temperance 
songs, the burden whereof was, — 

“0, that will be joyful, joyful, joyful, 

O, that will be joyful. 

When young men drink no more ’ ” 

It was taken up all over the hall, and the chorus 
rang out with an energy that caused sundry young 


A DECLABATION OF INDEPENDENCE, 15 


men to turn red and dodge behind any capacious back 
they could find, for every one understood Polly’s motive, 
and looked approvingly upon her as she stood singing, 
with an occasional quiver in the voice that usually was 
as clear and sweet as a blackbird’s. 

This unexpected manoeuvre on the part of the fair 
enemy produced direful perplexity and dismay in the 
opposing camp, whither the discomfited trio fied with 
tidings of their defeat. None of them dared try again 
in that quarter, but endeavored to console themselves 
by flirting wildly with such girls as still remained avail- 
able, for, sad to relate, many of the most eligible took 
courage and followed the example of the “ Sweet P’s.” 
This fact cast added gloom over the hapless gentlemen 
of the offending set, and caused them to fear that a 
social revolution would follow what they had con- 
sidered merely a girlish freak. 

“ Shouldn’t wonder if they got up a praying-band 
after this,” groaned Ned, preparing himself for the 
strongest measures. 

“ Portia had better lead off*, then, for the first time 
I indulged too freely in the ‘ rosy ’ was at her father’s 
house,” added Charley, laying all the blame of his ex- 
pulsion from Eden upon Eve, like a true Adam. 

“Look here, boys, we ought to thank, not blame 
them, for they want to help us, I’m sure, and some of 
us need help, God knows ! ” sighed Phil, with a look 
and tone that made his comrades forget their pique in 
sudden self-reproach ; for not one of them could, deny 
his words, or help feeling that the prayers of such inno* 
cent souls would avail much. 


16 


SILVER PITCHERS. 


CHAPTER III. 

WHAT PORTIA DID. 

“ I KNOW your head aches, mamma, so lie here and 
rest while I sit in my little chair and amuse you till 
papa comes in.” 

As Portia bent to arrange the sofa-cushions com- 
fortably, the tiny silver pitcher hanging at her neck 
swung forward and caught her mother’s eye. 

“Is it the latest fashion to wear odd ear-rings instead 
of lockets?” she asked, touching the delicate trinket 
with an amused smile. 

“No, mamma, it is something better than a fashion; 
it IS the badge of a temperance league that Pris, Polly, 
and I have lately made,” answered Portia, wondering 
how her mother would take it. 

“ Dear little girls ! God bless and help you in your 
good work ! ” was the quick reply, that both surprised 
and touched her by its fervency. 

“ Then you don’t mind, or think us silly to try and 
do even a very little towards curing this great evil ? ** 
she asked, with a sweet seriousness that was new and 
most becoming to her. 

“ My child, I feel as if it was a special providence,” 
began her mother, then checked herself and added 
more quietly, “ Tell me all about this league, dear, 
unless it is a secret.” 

“ I have no secrets from you, mother,” and nestling 
into her low chair Portia told her story, ending with 


WHAT PORTIA DID. 


17 


an earnestness that showed how much she had the new 
plan at heart. 

“ So you see Polly is trying to keep Ned safe, and 
Pris prays for Phil ; not in vain, I think, for he has 
been very good lately, they tell me. But I have 
neither brother nor lover to help, and I cannot go out 
to find any one, because I am only a girl. Now what 
can I do, mamma, for I truly want to do my share ? ” 

The mother lay silent for a moment, then, as if yield- 
ing to an irresistible impulse, drew her daughter 
nearer, and whispered with lips that trembled as they 
spoke, — 

“You can help your father, dear.” 

“ Mamma, what can you mean ? ” cried Portia, in a 
tone of indignant surprise. 

“ Listen patiently, child, or I shall regret that your 
confidence inspired me with courage to give you mine. 
Never think for one moment that I accuse my husband 
of any thing like drunkenness. He has always taken 
his wine like a gentleman, and never more than was 
good for him till of late. For this there are many 
excuses ; he is growing old, his life is less active than 
it was, many of the pleasures he once enjoyed fail now, 
and he has fallen into ways that harm his health.” 

“I know, mamma; he doesn’t care for company as 
he used to, or business, either, but seems quite con- 
tented to sit among his papers half the morning, and 
doze over the fire half the evening. Pve wondered at 
it, for he is not really old, and looks as hale and hand- 
some as ever,” said Portia, feeling that something hov- 
ered on her mother’s lips which she found it hard tc 
utter. 


18 


SILVER PITCHERS. 


“You are right; it is not age alone that makes him 
so unlike his once cheerful, active self; it is — bend 
lower, dear, and never breathe to any one what I tell you 
now, only that you may help me save your fathei-’s life, 
perhaps.” 

Startled by the almost solemn earnestness of these 
words, Portia laid her head upon the pillow, and twi- 
light wrapt the room in its soft gloom, as if to shut out 
all the world, while the mother told the daughter the 
langer that threatened him whom they both so loved 
and honored. 

“ Papa has fallen into the way of taking more wine 
after dinner than is good for him. He does not know 
how the habit is growing upon him, and is hurt if 1 
hint at. such a thing. But Dr. Hall warned me of the 
danger after papa’s last ill turn, saying that at his age 
and with his temperament apoplexy would be sure to 
follow over-indulgence of this sort.” 

“ O mamma, what can I do ? ” whispered Portia, 
with a thrill, as the words of Pris returned to her with 
sudden force, “It killed my father, broke mother’s 
heart, and left me all alone.” 

“Watch over him, dear, amuse him as you only cat., 
and wean him from this unsuspected harm by all the 
innocent arts your daughterly love can devise. I have 
kept this to myself, because it is hard for a wife to set 
any fault in her husband ; still harder for her to speak 
of it even to so good a child as mine. But my anxiety 
unfits me to do all I might, so I need help ; and of 
whom can I ask it but of you ? My darling, make a 
little league with mother, and let us watch and pray 
in secret for this dear man who is all in all to us.” 


WHAT PORTIA DID. 


19 


What Portia answered, what comfort she gave, and 
what further confidences she received, may not be told, 
for this household covenant was too sacred for report. 
No visible badge was assumed, no audible vow taken, 
but in the wife’s face, as it smiled on her husband that 
night, there was a tenderer light than ever, and the 
kiss that welcomed papa was the seal upon a purpose 
as strong as the daughter’s love. 

Usually the ladies left the Judge to read his paper 
and take his wine in the old-fashioned way, while they 
had cofiee in the drawing-room. As they rose, Portia 
saw the shadow fall upon her mother’s face, which she 
had often seen before, but never understood till now ; 
for this was the dangerous hour, this the moment when 
the child must stand between temptation and her 
father, if she could. 

That evening, very soon after the servant had 
cleared the table of all but the decanters, a fresh young 
voice singing blithely in the parlor made the Judge 
put down his glass to listen in pleased surprise. 

Presently he stepped across the hall to set both 
doors open, saying, in a half reproachful tone, — 

“ Sing away, my lark, and let papa hear you, for he 
seldom gets a chance now-a-days.” 

“ Then he must stay and applaud me, else I shall 
think that speech only an empty compliment,” answered 
Portia, as she beckoned with her most winsome smile. 

The Judge never dreamed that his good angel spoke; 
but he saw his handsome girl beaming at him from the 
music stool, and strolled in, meaning to go back when 
the song ended. 

But the blue charmer in the parlor proved mor® 


20 


SILVER PITCHERS. 


potent than the red one in the dining-room, and lie 
sat on, placidly sipping the excellent coffee, artfully 
supplied by his wife, quite unconscious of the little plot 
to rob him of the harmful indulgence which too often 
made his evenings a blank, and his mornings a vain 
attempt to revive the spirits that once kept increasing 
years from seeming burdensome. 

That was the beginning of Portia’s home mission; 
and from that hour she devoted herself to it, thinking 
of no reward, for such “ secret service ” could receive 
neither public sympathy nor praise. 

It was not an easy task, as she soon found, in spite 
of the stanch and skilful ally who planned the attacks 
she dutifully made upon the enemy threatening their 
domestic peace. 

When music ceased to have charms, and the Judge 
declared he must get his “ forty winks ” after dinner, 
Portia boldly declared that she would stay and see that 
he had them comfortably. So papa laughed and sub- 
mitted, took a brief nap, and woke in such good-humor 
that he made no complaint on finding the daughter 
replacing the decanter. 

This answered for a while; and when its effacacy 
seemed about to fail, unexpected help appeared ; for 
mamma’s eyes began to trouble her, and Portia pro- 
I)Osed that her father should entertain the invalid in 
the evening, while she served her through the day. 

This plan worked capitally, for the Judge loved his 
good wife almost as much as she deserved, and devoted 
himself to her so faithfully that the effort proved a bet- 
ter stimulant than any his well-stocked cellar could 
supply. 


WHAT PORTIA DID. 


21 


Dr. Hall prescribed exercise and cheerful society for 
his new patient, and in seeing that these instructions 
were obeyed the Judge got the benefit of them, and 
found no time for solitary wine-bibbing. 

“ I do believe I ’m growing young again, for the old 
dulness is quite gone, and all this work and play does 
not seem to tire me a bit,” he said, after an unusually 
lively evening with the congenial guests Portia took 
care to bring about him. 

“ But it must be verj- stupid for you, my dear, as we 
old folks have all the fun. Why don’t you invite the 
young people here oftener ? ” he added, as his eye fell 
on Portia, gazing thoughtfully into the fire. 

“ I wish I dared tell you why,” she answered wist- 
fully. 

“ Afraid of your old papa ? ” and he looked both 
surprised and grieved. 

“ I won’t be, for you are the kindest father that ever 
a girl had, and I know you’ll help me, as you always 
do, papa. I don’t dare ask my young friends here 
because Pm not willing to expose some of them to 
temptation,” began Portia, bravely. 

“ What temptation ? This ? ” asked her father, turn- 
ing her half-averted face to the light, with a smile full 
of paternal pride. 

“No, sir; a far more dangerous one than ever I 
can be.” 

“Then I should like to see it!” and the old gentle- 
man looked about him for this rival of his lovely 
daughter. 

“ It is these,” she said, pointing to the bottles and 
glasses on the sideboard. 


22 


SILVER PITCHERS. 


The Judge understood her then, and knit his brows 
but before he could reply Portia went steadily on, 
though her cheeks burned, and her eyes were bent 
upon the fire again. 

“Father, I belong to a society of three, and we have 
promised to do all we can for temperance. As yet I 
can only show bravely the faith that is in me ; there- 
fore I can never offer any friend of mine a drop of wine, 
and so I do not ask them here, where it would seem 
most uncourteous to refuse ” 

“ I trust no gentleman ever had cause to reproach 
me for the hospitality I was taught to show my guests,” 
began the Judge, in his most stately manner. 

But he got no further, for a soft hand touched his 
lips, and Portia answered sorrowfully, — 

“ One man has, sir ; Charley Lord says the first time 
he took too much was in this house, and it has grieved 
me to the heart, for it is true. O papa, never let any 
one have the right to say that again of us ! Forgive 
me if I seem undutiful, but I must speak out, for I 
want my dear father to stand on my side, and set an 
example which will make me even fonder and prouder 
of him than I am now.” 

As Portia paused, half frightened at her own frank- 
ness, she put her arms about his neck, and hid her face 
on his breast, still pleading her cause with the silent 
eloquence so hard to resist. 

The Judge made no reply for several minutes, and 
in that pause many thoughts passed through his mind, 
and a vague suspicion that had haunted him of late 
became a firm conviction. For suddenly he seemed to 
see his own weakness in its true light, to understand 


WHAT POLLY DID. 


23 


the meaning of the watchful love, the patient care that 
had so silently and helpfully surrounded him ; and in 
Portia’s appeal for younger men, he read a tender 
warning to himself. 

He was a proud man, but a very just one; and 
though a flush of anger swept across his face at first, he 
acknowledged the truth of the words that were so hard 
to speak. 

With his hand laid fondly on the head that was half- 
hidden, lest a look should seem to reproach him, this 
brave old gentleman proved that he loved his neighbor 
better than himself, and honestly confessed his own 
shortcomings. 

“No man shall ever say again that Z tempted him.” 

Then as Portia lifted up a happy face, he looked 
straight into the grateful eyes that dimmed with sud- 
den tears, and added tenderly, — 

“ My daughter, I am not too proud to own a fault, 
ror, please God, too old to mend it.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

WHAT POLLY DID. 

Since their mother’s death, Polly had tried to fill 
her place, and take good care of the boys. But the 
poor little damsel had a hard time of it sometimes ; for 
Ned, being a year or two older, thought it his duty tc 
emancipate himself from petticoat government as rapidly 


24 


SILVER PITCHERS, 


as possible, and do as he pleased, regardless of hef 
warnings or advice. 

Yet at heart he was very fond of his pretty sister 
At times he felt strongly tempted to confide his troubles 
and perplexities to her, for since the loss of his mother 
he often longed for a tender, helpful creature to cheer 
and strengthen him. 

Unfortunately he had reached the age when boys 
consider it “ the thing ” to repress every sign of regard 
for their own women-folk, sisters especially; so Ned 
barricaded himself behind the manly superiority of his 
twenty years, and snubbed Polly. 

Will had not yet developed this unpleasant trait, but 
his sister expected it, and often exclaimed, despairingly, 
to her bosom friends, — 

“When he follows Ned’s example, and begins to 
rampage, what will become of me? ” 

The father — a learned and busy man — was so oc- 
cupied by the duties of his large parish, or so absorbed 
in the abstruse studies to which his brief leisure was 
devoted, that he had no time left for his children. 
Polly took good care of him and the house, and the 
boys seemed to be doing well, so he went his way in 
peace, quite unconscious that his eldest son needed all 
a father’s care to keep him from the temptations to 
which a social nature, not evil propensities, exposed 
him. 

Polly saw the danger, and spoke of it ; but Mr. Snow 
only answered absently, — 

“ Tut, tut, my dear ; you are over-anxious, and forget 
that young men all have a few wild oats to sow.” 

While Ned silenced her with that other familiar and 


WHAT POLLY DID. 


25 


harmful phrase, “ I’m only seeing life a bit, so don’t 
you fret, child,” little dreaming that such “ seeing life ” 
too often ends in seeing death. 

So Polly labored in vain, till something happened 
which taught them all a lesson. Ned went on a sleigh- 
ing frolic with the comrades whom of all others his 
sister dreaded most. 

“ Do be careful and not come home as you did last 
time, for father will be in, and it would shock him 
dreadfully if I shouldn’t be able to keep you quiet,” 
she said anxiously. 

“ You little granny, I wasn’t tipsy, only cheerful, 
and that scared you out of your wits. I’ve got my key, 
so don’t sit up. I hate to have a woman glowering at 
me when I come in,” was Ned’s ungracious reply ; for 
the memory of that occasion was not a pleasant one. 

“ If a woman had not been sitting up, you’d have 
frozen on the door-mat, you ungrateful boy,” cried 
Polly, angrily. 

Ned began to whistle, and was going off without a 
word, when Polly’s loving heart got the better of her 
quick temper, and, catching up a splendid tippet she 
had made for him, she ran after her brother. She 
caught him just as he opened the front door, and, throw- 
ing both her arms and her gift about his neck, said, 
with a kiss that produced a sensation in the sleigh-full 
of gentlemen at the gate, — 

“Ah, do be friends, for I can’t bear to part so.” 

Now if no one nad been by, Ned would have found 
that pleasant mingling of soft arms and worsted a 
genuine comforter ; but masculine pride wouid not per- 
mit him to relent before witnesses, and the fear of being 


20 


SILVER PITCHERS, 


laughed at by “ those fellows ” made him put both 
sister and gift roughly aside, with a stern, — 

“ I won’t be molly-coddled ! Let me alone and shut 
the door ! ” \ 

Polly did let him alone, with a look that haunted 
him, and shut the door with a spirited bang, that much 
amused the- gentlemen. 

“I’ll never try to do any thing for Ned again! It’s 
no use, and he may go to the bad for all I care ! ” said 
Polly to herself, after a good cry. 

But she bitterly repented that speech a few hours 
later, when her brother was brought back, apparently 
dead, by such of the “ cheerful ” party as escaped un- 
hurt from a dangerous upset. 

There was no concealing this sad home-coming from 
her father, though poor Ned was quiet enough now, 
being stunned by the fall, which had wounded his head 
and broken his right arm. 

It was a shock, both to the man and the minister ; and, 
when the worst was over, he left Polly to watch her 
brother, with eyes full of penitential tears, and went 
away, to reproach himself in private for devoting to 
ancient Fathers the time and thought he should have 
given to modern sons. 

Ned was very ill, and when, at last, he began to mend, 
his helplessness taught him to see and love the sweetest 
side of Polly’s character ; for she was in truth his right 
hand, and waited on him with a zeal that touched his 
heart. 

Not one reproach did she utter, not even by a look 
did she recall past warnings, or ex.ult in the present 
humiliation, which proved how needful they had been. 


WHAT POLLY DID. 


27 


Every thing was forgotten except the fact that she had 
the happy privilege of caring for him almost as tenderly 
as a mother. 

Not quite, though, and the memory of her whose 
place it was impossible to fill seemed to draw them 
closer together ; as if the silent voice repeated its last 
injunctions to both son and daughter, “ Take care of 
the boys, dear ; ” “ Be good to your sister, Ned.” 

“ I’ve been a regular brute to her, and the dear little 
soul is heaping coals of fire on my head by slaving over 
me like an angel,” thought the remorseful invalid, one 
day, as he lay on the sofa, with a black patch adorning 
his brow, and his arm neatly done up in splints. 

Polly thought he was asleep, and sat quietly rolling 
bandages till a head popped in at the door, and Will 
asked, in a sepulchral whisper, — 

“I’ve got the book Ned wanted. Can I come and 
give it to you ? ” 

Polly nodded, and he tiptoed in to her side, with a 
face so full of good-will and spirits that it was as re- 
freshing as a breath of fresh air in that sick room. 

“ Nice boy ! he never forgets to do a kindness and be 
a comfort to his Polly,” she said, leaning her tired head 
on his button y jacket, as he stood beside her. 

Will wasn’t ashamed to show affection for “ his 
Polly,” so he patted the pale cheeks with a hand as red 
as his mittens, and smiled down at her with his honest 
blue eyes full of the protecting affection it was so 
pleasant to receive. 

“ Yes, Tm going to be a tiptop boy, and never make 
you and father ashamed of me, as you were once of 
somebody we know. Now don’t you laugh, and I’ll 


28 


SILVER PITCHERS, 


show you something; it’s the best I could do, and I 
wanted to prove that I mean what I say ; truly, truly, 
wish I may die if I don’t.” 

As he spoke. Will pulled out of his vest-pocket a 
little pewter cream-pot, tied to a shoe-string, and hold- 
ing it up said, with a funny mixture of boyish dignity 
and defiance, — 

“I bought it of Nelly Hunt, because her tea-set was 
half-smashed up. Folks may laugh at my badge, but I 
don’t care ; and if you won’t have me in your society I’ll 
set up all alone, for I’m going into the temperance busi- 
ness, any way ! ” 

Polly hugged him on the spot, and made his youth- 
ful countenance glow with honest pride by saying 
solemnly, — 

“ William G. Snow, I consider our league honored by 
the addition of so valuable a member ; for a boy who 
can bear to be laughed at, and yet stick to his princi- 
ples, is a treasure.” 

“ The fellows do laugh at me, and call me ‘ Little 
Pitcher ; ’ but I’d rather be that than ‘ Champagne 
Charlie,’ as Ned called Mr. Lord,” said Will, stoutly. 

“ Bless the little pitchers ! ” cried Polly, enthusiasti- 
cally surveying both the pewter pot and its wearer, 

A great tear was lying on her cheek, checked in its 
fall by the dimple that came as she looked at her 
orother’s droll badge. Will caught it dexterously in 
the tiny cup, saying, with a stifled laugh, — 

“Now you’ve baptized it, Polly, and it’s as good 
as silver; for your tear shines in there like a great 
big diamond. Wonder how many it would take to 
fill it?” 


WHAT POLLY DIB. 


29 


“ Youll never make me cry enough to find out. 
Now go and get my little silver chain, for that dear 
pewter pot deserves a better one than an old shoe- 
string,” said Polly, looking after him with a happy face, 
as the small youth gave one ecstatic skip and was off. 

“Pm afraid we’ve waked you up,” she added, as Ned 
stiired. 

“ I was only day-dreaming ; but I mean this one shall 
come true,” and Ned rose straight up, with an energy 
that surprised his sister. 

“ Come and have your lunch, for it’s time. Which 
will you take, Mrs. Neal’s wine-jelly or my custard?” 
asked Polly, settling him in his big chair. 

To her astonishment, Ned pitched the little mould 
i)f amber jelly into the lire, and tried to eat the custard 
with his left hand. 

“My dear boy, have you lost your senses?” she 
ejaculated. 

“No; Pve just found them,” he answered, with a 
flash of the eye, that seemed to enlighten Polly with- 
out more words. 

Taking her usual seat on the arm of the chair, she 
fed her big nursling in silence, till a sigh made her ask 
tenderly, — 

“ Isn’t it right ? I put in lots of sugar because you 
like it sweet.” 

“ All the sugar in the world won’t sweeten it to me, 
Polly ; for there’s a bitter drop at the bottom of all my 
cups. Will said your tear shone like a diamond in his 
little pitcher, and well it might. But you can’t cry 
happy tears over me, though I’ve made you shed 
enough sad ones to fill the big punch-bowl.” 


50 


SILVER PITCHERS. 


Ned tried to laugh, but somehow the custard choked 
him; and Polly laid the poor, cropped head on her 
shoulder for a minute, saying softly, — 

“Never mind, dear, I wouldn’t think about the old 
troubles now.” 

She got no farther, for with a left-handed thump that 
made all the cups dance wildly on the table, Ned cried 
out, — 

“ But I will think about the old troubles, for I don’t 
intend to have any new ones of that sort! Do you 
suppose I’ll see that snip of a boy standing up for what 
is right, and not have the pluck to do the same ? Do 
you suppose I’ll make my own father ashamed of me 
more than once ? Or let the dearest little girl in the 
world wear herself out over me, and I not try to thank 
her in the way she likes best ? Polly, my dear, you 
can’t be as proud of your elder brother as you are of 
the younger, but you shall never have cause to blush 
for him again ; never ^ sir, never / ” 

Ned lifted his hand for another emphatic thump, but 
changed his mind, and embraced his sister as closely as 
one arm could do it. 

“ I ought to have a badge if I’m going to belong to 
your select society ; but I don’t know any lady whc 
will give me an ear-ring or a cream-pot,” said Ned, 
when the conversation got round again to the cheerful 
side of the question. 

“I’ll give you something better than either,” an- 
swered Polly, as she transferred a plain locket from her 
watch-guard to the one lying on the table. 

Ned knew that a beloved face and a lock of gray 


WnAT PBIS BID, 


31 


hair were inside; and when his sister added, with a 
look full of sweet significance, For her sake, dear,’ 
he answered manfully, — 

“ I’ll try, Polly ! ” 


CHAPTER V 
WHAT PBIS DID. 

Priscilla, meantime, was racking her brain to digv 
cover how she could help Philip; for since she had 
broken ofi* her engagement no one spoke of him to her, 
and she could only judge of how things were going 
with him by what she saw and heard as she went about 
her daily task. 

Pris kept school, and the road which she must take 
twice a day led directly by the office where Phil was 
studying medicine with old Dr. Bufium. Formerly 
ghe always smiled and nodded as she passed, or stopped 
to chat a moment with the student, who usually 
chanced to be taking a whiff of fresh air at that in- 
stant. Little notes fiew in and out, and often her 
homeward walk was cheered by a companion, who 
taught the pretty teacher lessons she found it very 
easy to learn. 

A happy time ! But it was all over now, and brief 
glimpses of a brown head bent above a desk near that 
window was the only solace poor Pris had. The head 
never turned as she went by, but she felt sure that 


82 


SILVER PITCHERS. 


Phil knew hex step, and found that moment, as she did, 
the hardest of the day. 

She longed to relent, but dared not yet. He longed 
to show that he repented, but found it difficult without 
a sign of encouragement. So they went their separate 
w ays, seldom meeting, for Phil stuck to his books with 
dogged resolution, and Pris had no heart for society. 

Of course the affair was discussed with all the exas- 
perating freedom of a country town, some blaming 
Pris for undue severity, some praising her spirit, and 
some, friends, — not gossips, — predicting that both 
would be the better for the trial, which would not 
separate them long. Of this latter class were Portia 
and Polly, who felt it their duty to lend a hand when 
matters reached a certain point. 

“ Pris, dear, may I tell you something that I think 
you’d be glad to know?” began Polly, joining her 
friend one afternoon, as she went home weary and 
alone. 

“ You may tell me any thing,” and Pris took her 
arm as if she felt the need of sympathy. 

“You know Dr. Buffum let Phil help with Ned, so 
wo have seen a good deal' of him, and that is how I 
found out what I’ve got to tell you.” 

“ He spoke of me, then ? ” whispered Pris, eagerly. 

“Not a word till Ned made him. My boy is fond of 
your boy, and they had confidences which seem to 
have done them both good. Of course Ned didn’t tell 
me all about it, as we tell things (men never do, they 
are so proud and queer), but he said this, — 

“ ‘ Look here, Polly, you must be very kind to Phil, 
and stand by him all you can, or he will go down. Ho 


WRAT PEIS DID. 


83 


is doing his best, and will hold on as long as he can, 
but a fellow must have comfort and encouragement of 
some sort, and if he don’t get the right kind he’ll try 
the wrong.’ ” 

“ O Polly ! you will stand by him ? ” 

“ I have ; for I just took Phil in a weakish moment, 
and found out all I wanted to know. Ned is right and 
you are wrong, Pris, — not in giving back the ring, but 
in seeming to cast him off entirely. He does not 
deserve that, for he was not to blame half so much as 
you think. But he won’t excuse himself, for he feels 
that you are unjust ; yet he loves you dearly, and you 
could do any thing with him, if you chose.” 

“ I do choose, Polly ; but how can 1 marry a man 
whom I cannot trust ? ” began Pris, sadly. 

“ Now, my child. Pm going to talk to you like a 
mother, for I’ve had experience with boys, and I know 
how to manage them,” interrupted Polly, with such a 
charmingly maternal air that Pris laughed in spite of 
her trouble. “ Be quiet and listen to the words of 
wisdom,” continued her friend, seriously. 

“ Since I ’ve taken care of Ned, I’ve learned a great 
deal, for the poor lad was so sick and sorry he couldn’t 
shut his heart against me any more. So now I under- 
stand how to help and comfort him, for hearts are very 
much alike, Pris, and all need lots of love and patience 
to keep them good and happy. Ned told me hig 
troubles, and I made up my mind that as we don’t 
have so many temptations as boys, we should do all we 
can to help them, and make them the sort of men we 
can both love and trust.” 

“You are right, Polly. I’ve often thought how 
8 


34 


SILVER PITCHERS. 


wrong it is for us to sit safe and silent while we know 
things are going wrong, just because it isn’t considered 
proper for us to speak out. Then when the harm is 
done we are expected to turn virtuously away from 
the poor soul we might perhaps have saved if we had 
dared. God does not do so to us, and we ought not 
to do so to those over whom we have so much 
power,” said Pris, with a heart full of sad and tender 
memories. 

“We won’t!” cried Polly, firmly. “We began in 
play, but we will go on in earnest, and use our youth, 
our beauty, our influence for something nobler than 
merely pleasing men’s eyes, or playing with their 
hearts. We’ll help them to be good, and brave, and 
true, and in doing this we shall become better women, 
and worthier to be loved, I know.” 

“Why, Polly, you .are quite inspired!” and Pris 
stopped in the snowy road to look at her. 

“ It isn’t all my wisdom. I ’ve talked with father as 
well as Ned and Phil, and they have done me good. 
I ’ve discovered that confidence is better than compli- 
ments, and friendship much nicer than flirting ; so I ’m 
going to turn over a new leaf, and use my good gifts 
for higher ends.” 

“ Dear thing, what a comfort you are ! ” said Pris, 
pressing Polly’s hands, and looking into her bright face 
with grateful eyes. “You have given me courage to 
do my duty, and I’ll follow your example as fast as 1 
can. Don’t come any farther, please: Pd better be 
alone when I pass Phil’s window, for I’m going to nod 
and smile, as I used to in the happy time. Then he 
will see that I don’t cast him off and leave him to ‘ go 


WHAT PEIS DID. 


85 


down’ for want of help, but am still his friend until I 
dare be more.” 

“ Now, Pris, that’s just lovely of you, and I know it 
will work wonders. Smile and nod away, dear, and 
try to do your part, as I’m trying to do mine.” 

For an instant the little gray hat and the jaunty one 
with the scarlet feather were bent close together ; but 
what went on under the brims, who can say ? Then 
Polly trotted off as fast as she could go, and Pris 
turned into a certain street with a quicker step and a 
brighter color than she had known for weeks. 

She was late, for she had lingered with Polly, and 
she feared that patient watcher at the window would 
be gone. No ; the brown head was there, but it lay 
wearily on the arms folded over a big book, and the 
eyes that stared out at the wintry sky had something 
tragic in them. 

Poor Phil did need encouragement, and was in the 
mood to take the worst sort if the best failed him, for 
life looked very dark just then, and solitude was grow- 
ing unbearable. 

Suddenly, between him and the ruddy sunset a face 
appeared, — the dearest and the loveliest in the world 
to him. Not half averted now, nor set straightforward, 
cold and quiet as a marble countenance, but bent 
towards him, with a smile on the lips, and a wistful 
look in the tender eyes that made his heart leap up 
with sudden hope. Then it vanished; and when he 
sprung to the window nothing could be seen but the 
last wave of a well-known cloak, fluttering round the 
corner. 

lJut Priscilla’s first effort was a great success; fol 


86 


SILVER PITCHERS. 


the magic of a kind look glorified the dingy office, and 
every bottle on the shelves might have been filled with 
the elixir of life, so radiant did Phil’s face become. 
The almost uncontrollable desire to rush away and 
recklessly forget his loneliness in the first companion- 
ship that ofiTered was gone now, for a happy hope 
peopled his solitude with helpful thoughts and resolu- 
tions ; the tragic look left the eyes, that still saw a 
good angel instead of a tempting demon between them 
and the evening sky ; and when Phil shut up the big 
book he had been vainly trying to study, he felt that 
he had discovered a new cure for one of the sharpest 
pains the heart can suffer. 

Next morning Pris unconsciously started for school 
too soon, so when she passed that window the room 
was empty. Resolved that Phil should not share her 
disappointment, she lifted the sash and dropped a white 
azalea on his desk. She smiled as she did it, and then 
whisked away as if she had taken instead of left a treas- 
ure. But the smile remained with the flower, I think, 
and Phil found it there when he hurried in to discover 
this sweet good-morning waiting for him. 

He put it in the wine-glass which he had sworn never 
should be filled again with any thing but water, and 
sitting down before it listened to the little sermon the 
flower preached ; for the delicate white azalea was Pris 
to him, and the eloquence of a pure and tender heart 
flowed from it, working miracles. One of them was 
that when sunset came it shone on two faces at the 
window, and the little snow-birds heard two voices 
breaking a long silence. 

“ God bless you, Pris ” 


WHAT PHIS DID. 


87 


“ God help you, Phil ! ” 

That was all, but from that hour the girl felt her 
power for good, and used it faithfully; and from that 
hour the young man worked bravely to earn the re- 
spect and confidence without which no love is safe aLd 
happy. 

“We are friends now,” they said, when they were 
seen together again; and friends they remained, in 
spite of shrugs and smiles, ill-natured speeches, and 
more than one attempt to sow discord between them, 
for people did not understand the new order of things. 

“ I ti'ust him,” was the only answer Pris gave to all 
warnings and criticisms. 

“ I will be worthy of her,” the vow that kept Phil 
steady in spite of the ridicule that is so hard to bear, 
and gave him courage to flee from the temptation he 
was not yet strong enough to meet face to face. 

Portia and Polly stood by them stanchly ; for having 
made her father’s house a safe refuge, Portia offered 
Phil all the helpful influences of a happy home. Polly, 
with Ned to lend a hand, gave his comrade many a 
friendly lift; and when it was understood that the 
Judge, the minister, and the “Sweet P’s” indorsed the 
young M. D., no one dared cast a stone at him. 

All this took time, of course, but Phil got his reward 
at last, for one night a little thing happened which 
showed him his own progress, and made Pris feel that 
she might venture to wear the ring again. 

At a party Phil was graciously invited to take wine 
with a lady, and refused. It was a very hard thing to 
do, for the lady was his hostess, a handsome woman, 
and the mother of a flock of little children, who all pre- 


SILVER PITCHERS. 


S8 

ferred the young doctor to the old one ; and, greatest 
trial of all, several of his most dreaded comrades stood 
by to laugh at him, if he dared to let principle out- 
weigh courtesy. 

But he did it, though he grew pale with the effort to 
say steadily, — 

“ Will Mrs. Ward pardon me if I decline the honor? 
I am”— 

There he stopped and turned scarlet, for a lie was on 
his lips, — a lie so much easier to tell than the honest 
truth that many would have forgiven its utterance at 
that minute. 

His hostess naturally thought ill health was his ex- 
cuse, and, pitying his embarrassment, said, smiling, — 

“ Ah ! you doctors don’t prescribe wine for your own 
ailments as readily as for those of your patients.” 

But Phil, angry at his own weakness, spoke out 
frankly, with a look that said more than his words, — 

“ I cannot even accept the kind excuse you offer me, 
for I am not ill. It may be my duty to order wine 
sometimes for my patients, but it is also my duty to 
prescribe water for myself.” 

A dreadful little pause followed that speech; but 
Mrs. Ward understood now, and though she thought 
the scruple a foolish one, she accepted the apology like 
a well-bred woman, and, with a silent bow that ended 
the matter, turned to other guests, leaving poor Phil 
to his fate. 

Not a pleasant one, but he bore it as well as he 
could, and when his mates left him stranded in a cor- 
ner, he said, half aloud, with a long breath, as if the 
battle had been a hard one, — 


HOW IT ENDED. 


39 


“ Yes, I suppose I have lost my best patient, but I Ve 
kept my own respect, and that ought to satisfy me.” 

“ Let me add mine, and wish you health and happi- 
ness, dear Phil,” said a voice behind him, and turning 
quickly he saw Pris standing there with two goblets of 
water, and a smile full of love and pride. 

“You know what that toast means for me?” he 
whispered, with sudden sunshine in his face, as he 
took the offered glass. 

“Yes; and I drink it with all my heart,” she an- 
swered, with her hand in his. 


CHAPTER VI. 

HOW IT ENDED. 

The leaven dropped by three girls in that little 
town worked so slowly that they hardly expected to 
do more than “ raise their own patty-cakes,” as Polly 
merrily expressed it. But no honest purpose is ever 
wasted, and by-and-by the fermentation began. 

Several things helped it amazingly. The first of 
these was a temperance sermon, preached by Parson 
Snow, which produced a deep impression, because in 
doing this he had the courage, like Brutus, to condemn 
his own son. The brave sincerity, the tender earnest- 
ness of that sermon, touched the hearts of his people 
as no learned discourse had ever done, and bore fruit 
that well repaid him for the effort it cost. 


40 


SILVER PITCHERS, 


It waked up the old people, set the young ones to 
thinking, and showed them all that they had a work to 
do. For those who were down felt that they might be 
lifted up again, those who were trifling ignorantly or 
recklessly with temptation saw their danger, and thoso 
who had longed to speak out now dared to do it be< 
cause he led the way. 

So, warned by the wolf in his own fold, this shepherd 
of souls tried to keep his flock from harm, and, in doing 
it, found that his Christianity was the stronger, wiser, 
and purer for his humanity. 

Another thing was the fact that the Judge was the 
first to follow his pastor’s example, and prove by deeds 
that he indorsed his words. It was hard for the hospi- 
table old gentleman to banish wine from his table, and 
forego the pleasant customs which long usage and many 
associations endeared to him ; but he made his sacrifice 
handsomely, and his daughter helped him. 

She kept the side-board from looking bare by filling 
the silver tankards with flowers, offered water to his 
guests with a grace that made a cordial of it, and 
showed such love and honor for her father that he was 
a very proud and happy man. 

What the Judge did was considered “all right” by 
his neighbors, for he was not only the best-born, but 
the richest man in town, and with a certain class these 
facts had great weight. Portia knew this, and counted 
on it when she said she wanted him on her side ; so 
she exulted when others followed the new fashion, 
some from principle, but many simply because he set it. 

At first the young reformers were disappointed that 
every one was not as enthusiastic as themselves, and as 


HOW IT ENDED. 


41 


ready to dare and do for the cause thej had espoused. 
But wiser heads than those on their pretty shoulders 
curbed their impetuosity, and suggested various ways 
of gently insinuating the new idea, and making it so 
attractive that others would find it impossible to resist ; 
for sunshine often wins when bluster makes us wrap 
our prejudices closer around us, like the traveller in the 
fable. 

Portia baited her trap with Roman parties, — for she 
had been abroad, — and made them so delightful that 
no one complained when only cake and tea was served 
(that being the style in the Eternal City), but went 
and did likewise. 

Artful Polly set up a comic newspaper, to amuse 
Ned, who was an invalid nearly all winter, and in it 
freed her mind on many subjects in such a witty way 
that the “ Pollyanthus,” as her brother named it, circu- 
lated through their set, merrily sowing good seed ; for 
young folks will remember a joke longer than a sermon, 
and this editor made all hers tell. 

Pris was not behindhand in her efforts, but worked 
in a different way, and got up a branch society among 
her little pupils, called “ The Water Babies.” That capti 
vated the mothers at once, and even the fathers found 
it difficult to enjoy their wine with blue eyes watching 
them wistfully over the rims of silver mugs ; while the 
few topers of the town hid themselves like night-birds 
flying from the sun, when, led by their gentle General, 
that little army of innocents marched through the 
streets with banners flying, blithe voices singing, rosy 
faces shining, and childish hearts full of the sweet delu- 
sion that they could save the world. 


42 


SILVER PITCHERS, 


Of course the matrons discussed these events at the 
sewing-circle, and much talk went on of a more useful 
sort than the usual gossip about servants, sickness, dress, 
and scandal. 

Mrs. Judge waxed eloquent upon the subject, and, 
being president, every one listened with due respect. 
Mrs. Ward seconded all her motions, for this lady had 
much surprised the town, not only by installing Phil as 
family physician, but by coming out strong for temper- 
ance. Somebody had told her all about the girls’ labor 
of love, and she had felt ashamed to be outdone by 
them ; so, like a conscientious woman, she decided to 
throw her influence into the right scale, take time by 
the forelock, and help to make the town a safer place 
for her five sons to grow up in than it was then. 

These two leading ladies kept the ball rolling so 
briskly that others were soon converted and fell into 
rank, till a dozen or so were heartily in earnest. And 
then the job was half done ; for in a great measure 
women make society what they choose to have it. 

“We are told that home is our sphere, and advised 
to keep in it ; so let us see that it is what it should be, 
and then we shall have proved our fitness for larger 
fields of labor, if we care to claim them,” said Mrs, 
Judge, cutting out red flannel with charitable energy 
on one occasion. 

“Most of us will find that quite as much as we can 
accomplish, I fancy,” answered Mrs. Ward, thinking oi 
her own riotous lads, who were probably pulling the 
house about their ears, while she made hoods for Mrs, 
Flanagan’s bareheaded lasses. 

“’Pears to me we h ain’t no call to interfere in other 


HOW IT ENDED. 


43 


folks’s affairs. This never was a drinkin’ town, and 
things is kep’ in fustrate order, so I don’t see the use oi 
sech a talk about temperance,” remarked Miss Simmons, 
an acid spinster, whose principal earthly wealth con- 
sisted of a choice collection of cats. 

“If your tabbies took to drinking, you would see the 
use, I’m sure,” laughed Polly, from the corner, which 
was a perfect posy-bed of girls. 

“ Thank goodness, Pve no men folks to pester myself 
about,” began Miss' Simmons, with asperity. 

“ Ah, but you should ; for if you refuse to make theTu 
happy, you ought at least to see that they console 
themselves in ways which can work them no further 
woe,” continued Polly, gravely, though her black eyes 
danced with fun. 

“Well, that wouldn’t be no more than fair, I’m free 
to confess ; but, sakes alive, I couldn’t attend to ’em 
all ! ” said Miss Simmons, bridling with a simper that 
nearly upset the whole bevy of girls. 

“ Do make the effort, and help us poor things who 
haven’t had your experience,” added Pris, in her most 
persuasive voice. 

“ I declare I will ! I’ll have Hiram Stebbins in to tea ; 
and when he’s as good-natured as muffins and pie can 
make him. I’ll set to and see if I can’t talk him out 
of his attachment to that brandy bottle,” cried Miss 
Simmons, with a sudden yearning towards the early 
sweetheart, who had won, but never claimed her virgin 
affections. 

“ I think you’ll do it ; and, if so, you will have accom- 
plished what no one else could, and you shall have any 
prize you choose,” cried Portia, smiling so hopefully 


44 


SILVER PITCHERS. 


that the faded old face grew almost young again, as 
Miss Simmons went home with something better to do 
than tend her tabbies. 

“We’ve bagged that bird,” said Polly, with real satis- 
faction. 

“ That’s the way we set people to work,” added 
Portia, smiling. 

“ She will do what we can’t, for her heart is in it,” 
said Pris, softly ; and it was pleasant to see the bloom- 
ing girls rejoice that poor old Hiram was in a fair way 
to be saved. 

So the year went round, and Thanksgiving came 
again, with the home jollity that makes a festival 
throughout the land. The day would not be perfect 
if it did not finish with a frolic of some sort, and for 
reasons of their own the young gentlemen decided to 
have the first sociable of the year an unusually pleasant 
one. 

“Everybody is going, and Ned says the supper is to 
be water-ice and ice-water,” said Polly, taking a last 
look at herself in the long mirror, when the three 
friends were ready on that happy evening. 

“ I needn’t sigh now over other girls’ pretty dresses, 
as I did last year ; ” and Portia plumed herself like a 
swan, as she settled Charley’s roses in her bosom. 

“And I needn’t wonder who Phil will take,” added 
Pris, stopping, with her glove half on, to look at the 
little ring back again from its long banishment in some- 
body’s waistcoat pocket. 

Never had the hall looked so elegant and gay, for it 
was charmingly decorated ; couches were provided for 
the elders, mirrors for the beauties, and music of the 


now IT ENDED. 


45 


best sounded from behind a thicket of shrubs and flow- 
ers. Every one seemed in unusually good spirits ; the 
girls looked their loveliest, and the young men were 
models of propriety; though a close observer might 
have detected a suspicious twinkle in the eyes of the 
most audacious, as if they plotted some new joke. 

The girls saw it, were on the watch, and thought the 
Becret was out when they discovered that the gentlemen 
of their set all wore tiny pitchers, hanging like orders 
from the knots of sweet-peas in their button-holes, 
But, bless their innocent hearts ! that was only a ruse, 
and they were ta^en entirelv by surpri^ when, just 
before supper, the band struck up, 

** Drink to me only with thine eyes ; ” 

tnd every one looked smilingly at the three girls who 
were standing together near the middle of the hall. 

They looked about them in pretty confusion, but in 
a moment beheld a spectacle that made them forget 
themselves; for the Judge, in an impressive white 
waistcoat, marched into the circle gathered about them, 
made a splendid bow, and said, with a smile that put 
the gas to shame, — 

“Young ladies! I am desired by the gentlemen now 
present to beg your acceptance of a slight token of 
their gratitude, respect, and penitence. As the first 
man who joined the society which has proved a blessing 
to our town, Mr. William Snow will now have the 
honor of presenting the gift.” 

Then appeared Mr. William Snow, looking as proud 
as a peacock ; and well he might, for on the salver which 
he bore stood a stately silver pitcher. A graceful little 


46 


SILVER PITCHERS. 


Hebe danced upon the handle, three names shone along 
the fretted brim, and three white lilies rose from the 
slender vase, — fit emblems of the maiden founders of 
the league. 

Arriving before them. Master Will nearly upset the 
equilibrium of his precious burden in attempting to 
make a bow equal to the Judge’s ; but recovered him- 
self gallantly, and delivered the following remarkable 
poem, which the public was expected to believe an 
emanation of his own genius : — 

“ Hebe poured the nectar forth 
When gods of old were jolly. 

But graces three our goblets fill, 

Fair Portia, Pris and Polly. 

Their draughts make every man who tastes 
Happier, better, richer ; 

Oo here we vow ourselves henceforth 
Knights of the Silver Pitcher.'* 


ANNA’S WHIM. 



OW just look at that!” cried a young lady, 


-1- ^ pausing suddenly in her restless march to and 
fro on one of the wide piazzas of a seaside hotel. 

“ At what ? ” asked her companion, lazily swinging 
in a hammock. 

“ The difference in those two greetings. It’s per- 
fectly disgraceful 1 ” was the petulant reply. 

“ I didn’t see any thing. Do tell me about it,” said 
Clara, opening her drowsy eyes with sudden interest. 

“Why, young Barlow was lounging up the walk, 
and met pretty Miss Ellery. Off went his hat ; he 
gave her a fine bow, a gracious smile, a worn-out com- 
pliment, and then dawdled on again. The next minute 
Joe King came along. Instantly Barlow woke up 
laughed out like a pleased boy, gave him a hearty grip 
of the hand, a cordial ‘ How are you, old fellow ? I’m 
no end glad to see you ! ’ and, linking arms, the twc 
tramped off, quite beaming with satisfaction.” 

“ But, child. King is Barlow’s best friend ; Kitty 
Ellery only an acquaintance. Besides, it wouldn’t do 
to greet a woman like a man.” 

“Yes, it would, especially in this case; for Barlow 
adores Kate, and might, at least, treat her to some 
thing better than the nonsense he gives other girls 
But, no, it’s proper to simper and compliment; and 


48 


AKNA^S WHIM. 


he’ll do it till his love gets the better a..’ ‘prunes and 
prisms,’ and makes him sincere and earnest.” 

“ This is a new whim of yours. You surely wouldn’t 
like to have any man call out ‘ How are you, Anna ? * 
slap you on the shoulder, and nearly shake your hand 
off, as Barlow did King’s, just now,” said Clara, laugh- 
ing at her friend. 

“Yes, I would,” answered Anna, perversely, “if he 
really meant it to express affection or pleasure. A good 
grip of the hand and a plain, hearty word would please 
me infinitely better than all the servile bowing down 
and sweet nonsense I’ve had lately. I’m not a fool ; 
then, why am I treated like one ? ” she continued, knit- 
ting her handsome brows and pacing to and fi*o like an 
angry leopardess. “ Why don’t men treat me like a 
reasonable being? — talk sense to me, give me their 
best ideas, tell me their plans and ambitions, let me 
enjoy the real man in them, and know what they hon- 
estly are ? I don’t want to be a goddess stuck up on a 
pedestal. I want to be a woman down among them, 
to help and be helped by our acquaintance.” 

“ It wouldn’t do, I fancy. They wouldn’t like it, 
and would tell you to keep to your own sex.” 

“ But my own sex don’t interest or help me one bit. 
Women have no hope but to be married, and that is 
goon told; no ideas but dress and show, and I’m tired 
to death of both ; no ambition but to outshine their 
neighbors, and I despise that.” 

“ Thank you, love,” blandly murmured Clara. 

“It is true, and you know it. There are sensible 
women ; but not in my set. And I don’t seem to find 
them. I’ve tried the life set down for girls like me, 


ANNA'S WEIM. 


49 


and for three years I’ve lived and enjoyed it. Now 
I’m tired of it. I want something better, and I mean 
to have it. Men will follow, admire, flatter, and love 
me; for I please them and they enjoy my society. 
Very well. Then it’s fair that I should enjoy theirs. 
And I should if they would let me. It’s perfectly 
maddening to have flocks of brave, bright fellows 
round me, full of every thing that is attractive, strong, 
and helpful, yet not be able to get at it, because so- 
ciety ordains twaddle between us, instead of sensible 
conversation and sincere manners.” 

“ What shall we do about it, love ? ” asked Clara, 
enjoying her friend’s tirade. 

“ You will submit to it, and get a mental dyspepsia, 
like all the other fashionable girls. I won’t submit, if 
I can help it; even if I shock Mrs. Grundy by my 
efforts to get plain bread and beef instead of con- 
fectionery.” 

Anna walked in silence for a moment, and then 
burst out again, more energetically than ever. 

“ Oh ! I do wish I could find one sensible man, who 
would treat me as he treats his male friends, — even 
roughly, if he is honest and true ; who would think me 
worthy of his confidence, ask my advice, let me give 
him whatever I have that is wise and excellent, and be 
my friend in all good faith.” 

“ Ahem ! ” said Clara, with a significant laugh, that 
angered Anna. 

“ You need not try to abash me with your jeers. I 
know what I mean, and I stand by my guns, in spite 
of your ‘ hems.’ I do not want lovers. I’ve had 
dozens, and am tired of them. I will not marry till I 

4 


50 


ANNA'S WmU. 


know the man thoroughly; and how can I know him 
with this veil between us ? They donT guess what I 
really am ; and I want to prove to them and to myseH 
that I possess brains and a heart, as well as ‘ heavenly 
eyes,’ a ‘ queenly figure,’ and a ‘ mouth made for 
kissing.’ ” 

The scorn with which Anna uttered the last words 
amused her friend immensely, for the petulant beauty 
bad never looked handsomer than at that moment. 

“ If any man saw you now, he’d promise whatever 
you ask, no matter how absurd. But don’t excite 
yourself, dear child ; it is too warm for heroics.” 

Anna leaned on the wide baluster a moment, look- 
ing thoughtfully out upon the sea ; and as she gazed a 
new expression stole over her charming face, changing 
its disdainful warmth to soft regret. 

“This is not all a whim. I know what I covet, 
because I had it once,” she said, with a sigh. “ I had 
a boy friend when I was a girl, and for several years 
we were like brother and sister. Ah! what happy 
times we had together, Frank and I. We played and 
studied, quarrelled and made up, dreamed splendid 
dreams, and loved one another in our simple child 
fashion, never thinking of sex, rivalry, or any of the 
forms and follies that spoil maturer friendships.” 

“ What became of him ? Did he die angelically in 
his early bloom, or outgrow his Platonics with round 
jackets?” asked Clara. 

“ He went to college. I went abroad, to be ‘ finished 
oflT;’ and when we met a year ago the old charm was 
all gone, for we were ‘ in society ’ and had our masks 


ANNA'S WHIM. 


61 


“ So the boy and girl friendship did not ripen into 
love and end the romance properly ? ” 

“No, thank Heaven! no flirtation spoilt the pretty 
story. Frank was too wise, and I too busy. Yet 1 
remember how glad I was to see him ; though I hid it 
properly, and pretended to be quite unconscious that 
1 was any thing but a belle. I got paid for my deceit, 
though ; for, in spite of his admiration, I saw he was 
disappointed in me. I should not have cared if I had 
been disappointed in him ; but I was quick to see that 
he was growing one of the strong, superior men who 
command respect. I wanted to keep his regard, at 
least; and I seemed to have nothing but beauty to 
give in return. I think I never was so hurt in my life 
as I was by his not coming to see me after a week or 
two, and hearing him say to a friend, one night, when 
I thought I was at my very best, ‘ She is spoilt, like 
all the rest.’ ” 

“ I do believe you loved him, and that is why you 
won’t love any one else,” cried Clara, who had seen 
her friend in her moods before ; but never understood 
them, and thought she had found a clew now. 

“ No,” said Anna, with a quiet shake of the head. 
“No, I only wanted my boy friend back, and could not 
find him. The fence between us was too high ; and I 
could not climb over, as I used to do when I leaped 
the garden-wall to sit in a tree and help Frank with 
his lessons.” 

“ Has the uncivil wretch never come back ? ” asked 
Clara, interested in the aflair. 

“Never. He is too busy shaping his life bravely 
and successfully to waste his time on a frivolous butter- 
fly like Anna West.” 


52 


ANNANS WHIM. 


An eloquent little gesture of humility made the 
words almost pathetic. Kind-hearted Clara was touched 
by the sight of tears in the “ heavenly eyes,” and tum- 
bling out of the hammock she embraced the “ queenly 
figure ” and warmly pressed the “ lips that were made 
for kissing,” thereby driving several approaching gentle- 
men to the verge of distraction. 

“Now don’t be tragical, darling. You have noth- 
ing to cry for, I ’m sure. Young, lovely, rich, and adored, 
what more can any girl want ? ” said Clara, gushingly. 

“Something besides admiration to live for,” an- 
swered Anna, adding, with a shrug, as she saw several 
hats fly off and several manly countenances beam upon 
her, “Never mind, my fit is over now; let us go and 
dress for tea.” 

Miss West usually took a brisk pull in her own boat 
before breakfast; a habit which lured many indolent 
young gentlemen out of their beds at unaccustomed 
hours, in the hope that they might have the honor of 
splashing their legs helping her off, the privilege of 
wishing her “ Hon voyage,*’ or the crowning rapture of 
accompanying her. 

On the morning after her “ fit,” as she called the dis- 
content of a really fine nature with the empty life she 
led, she was up and out unusually early ; for she had 
kept her room with a headache all the evening, and 
now longed for fresh air and exercise. 

As she prepared the “ Gull ” for a start, she was idly 
wondering what early bird would appear eager to 
secure the coveted worm, when a loud and cheerful 
voice was heard calling, — 

“ Hullo, Anna ! ” and a nautically attired gentleman 
hove in sight, waving his hat as he hailed her. 


ANNA'^S WHIM. 


53 


She started at the unceremonious salute and looked 
back. Then her whole face brightened beautifully as 
she sprang up the bank, saying, with a pretty mixture 
of hesitation and pleasure, — 

“ Why, Frank, is that you ? ” 

“ Do you doubt it ? ” 

And the new-comer shook both her hands so vigor- 
ously that she winced a little as she said, laughing, — 

“No, I don’t. That is the old squeeze with extra 
power in it.” 

“ How are you ? Going for a pull ? Take me along 
and show me the lions. There’s a good soul.” 

“With pleasure. When did you come?” asked 
Anna, settling the black ribbon under the sailor collar 
which set off her white throat charmingly. 

“ Last night. I caught a glimpse of you at tea ; but 
you were surrounded then and vanished immediately 
afterward. So when I saw you skipping over the rocks 
just now, I gave chase, and here I am. Shall I take an 
oar ? ” asked Frank, as she motioned him to get in. 

“ No, thank you. I prefer to row myself and don’t 
need any help,” she answered, with an imperious little 
wave of the hand ; for she was glad to show him she 
could do something besides dance, dress, and flirt. 

“All right, l^hen I’ll do the luxurious and enjoy 
myself.” And, without offering to help her in, Frank 
seated himself, folded his arms, stretched out his long 
legs, and placidly remarked, — 

“ Pull away, skipper.” 

Anna was pleased with his frank and friendly greet- 
ing, and, feeling as if old times had come again, sprang 
in, prepared to astonish him with her skill. 


64 


ANNA'S WHIM, 


“ Might I suggest that you ” — began Frank, as she 
pushed off. 

“No suggestions or advice allowed aboard this ship, 
I know what I ’m about, though I am a woman,” was 
the severe answer, as the boat glided from the wharf. 

“ Ay, ay, sir ! ” And Frank meekly subsided, with a 
twinkle of amusement in the eyes that rested approv- 
ingly on the slender figure in a blue boating suit and 
tlie charming face under the sailor hat. 

Anna paddled her way dexterously out from among 
the fleet of boats riding at anchor in the little bay ; then 
she seated herself, adjusted one oar, and looked about 
for the other rowlock. It was nowhere visible; and, 
after a silent search, she deigned to ask, — 

“ Have you seen the thing anywhere ? ” 

“ I saw it on the bank.” 

“ Why didn’t you tell me before ? ” 

“ I began to, but was quenched ; so I obeyed orders.” 

“You haven’t forgotten how to tease,” said Anna, 
petulantly. 

“ Nor you to be wilful.” 

She gave him a look that would have desolated most 
men ; but only made Frank smile affably as she paddled 
laboriously back, recovered the rowlock and then her 
temper, as, with a fine display of muscle, she pulled out 
to sea. 

Getting into the current, she let the boat drift, and 
soon forgot time and space in the bewildering conver- 
sation that followed. 

“ What have you been doing since I saw you last ? ” 
she asked, looking as rosy as a milkmaid, as she stopped 
vowing and tied up her wind-tossed hair. 


ANNA'S WHIM. 


55 


“ Working like a beaver. You see” — and Iben, to 
her utter amazement, Frank entered into an elaborate 
statement of his affairs, quite as if she understood all 
about it and her opinion was valuable. It was all Greek 
to Anna, but she was immensely gratified ; for it was 
just the way the boy used to tell her his small concerns in 
the days when each had firm faith in the other’s wisdom. 
She tried to look as if she understood all about “ in- 
vestments, percentage, and long credit ; ” but she was 
out of her depth in five minutes, and dared say nothing, 
lest she should betray her lamentable ignorance on all 
matters of business. She got out of the scrape by 
cleverly turning the conversation to old times, and 
youthful reminiscences soon absorbed them both. 

The faint, far-ofi* sound of a gong recalled her to the 
fact that breakfast was nearly ready ; and, turning the 
boat, she was dismayed to see how far they had floated. 
She stopped talking and rowed her best ; but wind and 
tide were against her, she was faint with hunger, and 
her stalwart passenger made her task doubly hard. He 
ofifered no help, however ; but did the luxurious to the 
life, leaning back, with his hat off, and dabbling his 
hands in the way that most impedes the progress of a 
boat. 

Pride kept Anna silent till her face was scarlet, her 
palms blistered, and her breath most gone. Then, and 
not till then, did she condescend to say, with a gasp, 
poorly concealed by an amiable smile, — 

“ Do you care to row ? I ought to have asked you 
before.” 

“ I’m very comfortable, thank you,” answered Frank. 
Then, as an expression of despair flitted over poor 


56 


ANNAN'S WEIM. 


Anna’s face, he added bluntly, “I’m getting desper- 
ately hungry, so I don’t care if I do shorten the voyage 
& bit.” 

With a sigh of relief, she rose to change seats, and, 
expecting him to help her, she involuntarily put out her 
hands, as she passed. But Frank was busy turning 
back his cuffs, and never stirred a finger; so that she 
would have lost her balance and gone overboard if she 
had not caught his arm. 

“What’s the matter, skipper?” he asked, standing 
the sudden grip as steadily as a mast. 

“Why didn’t you help me? You have no more 
manners than a turtle ! ” cried Anna, dropping into the 
seat with the frown of a spoiled beauty, accustomed to 
be gallantly served and supported at every step. 

Frank only added to his ofifence by laughing, as he 
said carelessly, — 

“You seemed so independent, I didn’t like to inter- 
fere.” 

“ So, if I had gone overboard, you would not have 
fished me out, unless I asked you to do it, I suppose ? ” 

“ In that case, I’m afraid I shouldn’t have waited for 
orders. We can’t spare you to the mermen yet.” 

Something in the look he gave her appeased Anna’s 
resentment ; and she sat silently admiring the strong 
swift strokes that sent the “ Gull ” skimming over the 
water. 

“ Not too late for breakfast, after all,” she said gra- 
ciously, as they reached the wharf, where several early 
strollers stood watching their approach. 

“Poor thing! You look as if you needed it,” an- 
swered Frank. But he let her get out alone, to the 


ANNANS WHIM. 


67 


horror of Messrs. Barlow, King, & Co. ; and, while she 
fastened the boat, Frank stood settling his hatband, 
with the most exasperating unconsciousness of his duty. 

“ What are you going to do with yourself this morn- 
ing ? ” she asked, as she walked up the rocky path, with 
no arm to lean upon. 

“ Fish. Will you come along ? ” 

“No, thank you. One gets so burnt. I shall go to 
my hammock under the pine,” was the graciously sug- 
gestive reply of the lady who liked a slave to fan or 
fiwing her, and seldom lacked several to choose from. 

“ See you at dinner, then. My room is in the Cot- 
tage. So by-by for the present.” And, with a nod, 
Frank strolled away, leaving the lovely Miss West to 
mount the steps and cross the hall unescorted. 

“ The dear fellow’s manners need polish. I must 
lake him in hand, I see. And yet he is very nice, in 
spite of his brusque ways,” thought Anna, indulgently. 
And more than once that morning she recalled his bluff 
“ Hullo, Anna ! ” as she swung languidly in her ham- 
mock, with a devoted being softly reading Tennyson to 
her inattentive ears. 

At dinner she appeared in unusual spirits, and kept 
her end of the table in a ripple of merriment by her 
witty and satirical sallies, privately hoping that her 
opposite neighbor would discover that she could talk 
well when she chose to do so. But Frank was deep in 
politics, discussing some new measure with such ear- 
nestness and eloquence that Anna, pausing to listen for 
a moment, forgot her lively gossip in one of the great 
questions of the hour. 

She was listening with silent interest, when Frank 


58 


ANNANS WHIM. 


suddenly appealed to her to confirm some statement he 
had just made ; and she was ignominiously obliged to 
confess she knew too little about the matter to give any 
opinion. No compliment ever paid her was more flat- 
tering than his way of turning to her now and then, aa 
if including her in the discussion as a matter of course ; 
and never had she regretted any thing more keenly 
than she did her ignorance on a subject that every man 
and woman should understand and espouse. 

She did her best to look intelligent ; racked her brain 
to remember facts which she had heard discussed for 
weeks, without paying any attention to them; and, 
thanks to her quick wit and womanly sympathy, she 
managed to hold her own, saying little, but looking 
much. 

The instant dinner was over, she sent a servant t« 
the reading-room for a file of late papers, and, retiring 
to a secluded corner, read up with a diligence that not 
only left her with clearer ideas on one subject, but also 
a sense of despair at her own deficiencies in the knowl- 
edge of many others. 

“ I really must have a course of solid reading. I do 
believe that is what I need ; and I’ll ask Frank where 
to begin. He always was an intelligent boy ; but I 
was surprised to hear how well he talked. I was act- 
ually proud of him. I wonder where he is, by the 
way. Clara wants to be introduced, and I want to see 
how he strikes her.” 

Leaving her hiding-place, Anna walked forth in 
search of her friends, looking unusually bright and 
beautiful, for her secret studies had waked her up and 
lent her face the higher charm it needed. Clara ap- 


ANNA'S WHIM. 


59 


peared first. The new-comer had already been pre- 
sented to her, and she professed herself “perfectly 
fiiscinated.” “Such a personable man! Quite distin- 
guished, you know, and so elegant in his manners , 
Devoted, graceful, and altogether charming.” 

“You like his manners, do you?” and Anna smiled 
at Clara’s enthusiasm. 

“ Of course I do ; for they have all the polish of 
foreign travel, with the indescribable something which 
a really fine character lends to every little act and 
word.” 

“ Frank has never been abroad, and if I judged his 
character by his manners I should say he was rather a 
rough customer,” said Anna, finding fault because Clara 
praised. 

“You are so fastidious, nothing ever suits you, dear. 
I didn’t expect to like this old friend of yours. But I 
frankly confess I do immensely ; so, if you are tired of 
him. I’ll take him off your hands.” 

“Thank you, love. You are welcome to poor Frank, 
if you can win him. Men are apt to be more loyal to 
friendship than women ; and I rather fancy, from what 
I saw this morning, that he is in no haste to change 
old friends for new.” 

Anna spoke sweetly, but at heart was ill pleased 
with Clara’s admiration of her private property, as she 
considered “poor Frank,” and inwardly resolved to 
have no poaching on her preserves. 

Just then the gentleman in question came up, saying 
to Anna, in his abrupt way, — 

“ Every one is going to ride, so I cannot get the 
best horses ; but I’ve secured two, and now I want a 


60 


ANNANS WHIM, 


companion. Will you come for a good old-tima 
gallop ? ” 

Anna thought of her blistered hands, and hesitated, 
till a look at Clara’s hopeful face decided her to accept. 
She did so, and rode like an Amazon for several hours, 
in spite of heat, dust, and a hard-mouthed horse, who 
nearly pulled her arms out of the sockets. 

She hoped to find a chance to consult Frank about 
her course of useful reading ; but he seemed intent on 
the “ old-time gallop,” and she kept up gallantly till 
the ride was over, when she retired to her room, quite 
exhausted, but protesting with heroic smiles that she 
had had a delightful time. 

She did not appear at tea ; but later in the evening, 
when an informal dance was well under way, she sailed 
in on the arm of a distinguished old gentleman, “ evi- 
dently prepared to slay her thousands,” as young Bar- 
low said, observing the unusual brilliancy of her eyes 
and the elaborate toilette she had made. 

“She means mischief to-night. Who is to be the 
victim, I wonder ? ” said another man, putting up his 
glass for a survey of the charmer. 

“Not the party who came last evening. He is only 
an old friend,” she says. 

“He might be her brother or her husband, judging 
by the cavalier way in which he treats her. I could 
have punched his head this morning, when he let her 
pull up that boat alone,” cried a youthful adorer, glar- 
ing irefully at the delinquent, lounging in a distant 
doorway. 

“ If she said he was an old friend, you may be sure 
he is an accepted lover. The dear creatures all fib in 


ANNA'S WHIM. 


61 


these matters ; so I’ll lay wagers to an enormous 
amount that all this splendor is for the lord and mas- 
ter, not for our destruction,” answered Barlow, who 
was wise in the ways of women and wary as a moth 
should be who had burnt his wings more than once at 
the same candle. 

Clara happened to overhear these pleasing remarks, 
and five minutes after they were uttered she breathed 
them tenderly into Anna’s ear. A scornful smile was 
all the answer she received ; but the beauty was both 
pleased and annoyed, and awaited with redoubled 
interest the approach of the old friend, who was re- 
garded in the light of a successful lover. But he 
seemed in no haste to claim his privileges, and dance 
after dance went by, while he sat talking with the old 
general or absently watching the human teetotums that 
spun about before him. 

“ I can’t stand this another moment ! ” said Anna 
to herself, at last, and beckoned the recreant knight to 
approach, with a commanding gesture. 

“ Why don’t you dance, sir ? ” 

“I’ve forgotten how, ma’am.” 

“ After all the pains I took with you when we had 
lessons together, years ago ? ” 

“ I’ve been too busy to attend to trifles of that sort.” 

“ Elegant accomplishments are not trifles, and no one 
eliould neglect them who cares to make himself agree- 
able.” 

“Well, I don’t know that I do care, as a general 
thing.” 

“You ought to care; and, as a penance for that rude 
speech, you must dance tliis dance with me. I cannot 


62 


ANNA'S WHIM, 


let you forget all your accomplishments for the sake of 
business ; so I shall do my duty as a friend and take 
you in hand ” said Anna, severely. 

“ You are very kind ; but is it worth the trouble 

“Now, Frank, don’t be provoking and ungratefuL 
You know you like to give pleasure, to be cared for, 
and to do credit to your friends ; so just rub up your 
manners a bit, and be as well-bred as you are sensible 
and brave and good.” 

“ Thank you. I’ll try. May I have the honor. Miss 
West?” and he bowed low before her, with a smile 
on his lips that both pleased and puzzled Anna. 

They danced the dance, and Frank acquitted himself 
respectably, but relapsed into his objectionable ways 
as soon as the trial ended ; for the first thing he said, 
with a sigh of relief, was, — 

“ Come out and talk ; for upon my life I can’t stand 
this oven any longer.” 

Anna obediently followed, and, seating herself in a 
breezy corner, waited to be entertained. But Frank 
seemed to have forgotten that pleasing duty; for, 
perching himself on the wide baluster of the piazza, he 
not only proceeded to light a cigarette, without even 
saying, “ By your leave,” but coolly offered her one 
also. 

“ How dare you ! ” she said, much offended at this 
proceeding. “ I am not one of the fast girls who do 
such things, and I dislike it exceedingly.” 

“ You used to smoke sweet-fern in corn-cob pipes, 
you remember ; and these are not much stronger,” he 
said, placidly restoring the rejected offering to his 
pocket. 


ANNA'S WHIM. 


63 


“ I did many foolish things then which I desire to 
forget now.” 

“ And some very sweet and sensible ones, also. Ah, 
well ! it can’t be helped, I suppose.” 

Anna sat silent a moment, wondering what he 
meant ; and when she looked up, she found him pen* 
sively staring at her, through a fragrant cloud o| 
smoke. 

“ What is it ? ” she asked, for his eyes seemed seek- 
ing something. 

“ I was trying to see some trace of the little Anna 
I used to know. I thought I’d found her again this 
morning in the girl in the round hat; but I don’t find 
her anywhere to-night.” 

“ Indeed, Frank, I’m not so much changed as I seem. 
At least, to you I am the same, as far as I can be. Do 
believe it, and be friends, for I want one very much ? ” 
cried Anna, forgetting every thing but the desire to re- 
establish herself in his good opinion. As she spoke, 
she turned her face toward the light and half extended 
her hand, as if to claim and hold the old regard that 
seemed about to be withdrawn from her. 

Frank bent a little and scanned the upturned face 
with a keen glance. It flushed in me moonlight and 
the lips trembled like an anxious child’s; but the eyes 
met his with a look both proud and wistful, candid and 
sweet, — a look few saw in those lovely eyes, or, once 
seeing, ever forgot. Frank gave a little nod, as if 
satisfied, and said, with that perplexing smile of his, — 

“ Most people would see only the beautiful Miss West, 
in a remarkably pretty gown ; but I think I catch a 
glimpse of little Anna, and I am very glad of it. You 


64 


ANNA'S WHIM. 


want a friend? Very good. I’ll do my best for you; 
but you must take me as I am, thorns and all.” 

“I will, and not mind if they wound sometimes. 
I ’ve had roses till I’m tired of them, in spite of their 
sweetness.” 

As he spoke, Frank had taken the hand she offered, 
and, having gravely shaken it, held the “ white wonder” 
for an instant, glancing from the little blisters on th4 
delicate palm to the rings that shone on several fingers. 

“ Are you reading my fortune ? ” asked Anna, won- 
dering if he was going to be sentimental and kiss it. 

“ After a fashion ; for I am looking to see if there 
is a suspicious diamond anywhere about. Isn’t it time 
there was one?” 

“ That is not a question for you to ask ; ” and Anna 
caught away her hand, as if one of the thorns he spoke 
of had suddenly pricked. 

“Why not? We always used to tell each other 
every thing ; and, if we are to go on in the old friendly 
way, we must be confidential and comfortable, you 
know.” 

“You can begin yourself then, and I’ll see how I 
like it,” said Anna, aroused and interested, in spite of 
her maidenly scruples about the new arrangement. 

“ I will, with all my heart. To own the truth. I’ve 
been longing to tell you something ; but I wasn’t sure 
that you’d take any interest in it,” began Frank, eating 
rose-leaves with interesting embarrassment. 

“ I can imagine what it is,” said Anna, quickly, while 
her heart began to flutter curiously, for these confidences 
were becoming exciting. “You have found your fate, 
and are dying to let everybody know how happy yoa 
are.” 


ANNA'S WHIM, 


65 


“ I think I have. Bnt I’m not happy yet. I’m 
desperately anxious, for I cannot decide whether it is 
a wise or foolish choice.” 

“ Who is it ? ” 

“ Never mind the name. I haven’t spoken yet, and 
perhaps never shall ; so I may as well keep that to my- 
self, — for the present, at least.” 

“ Tell me what you like then, and I will ask no more 
questions,” said Anna, coldly; for this masculine dis- 
cretion annoyed her. 

“ W ell, you see, this dear girl is pretty, rich, accom- 
plished, and admired. A little spoilt, in fact ; but very 
captivating, in spite of it. Now, the doubt in my mind 
is whether it is wise to woo a wife of this sort ; for I 
know I shall want a companion in all things, not only 
a pretty sweetheart or a graceful mistress for my house.” 

“ I should say it was not wise,” began Anna, decidedly 
then hastened to add, more quietly : “ But perhaps you 
only see one side of this girl’s character. She may have 
much strength and sweetness hidden away under her 
gay manner, waiting to be called out when the right 
mate comes.” 

“ I often think so myself, and long to learn if I am 
the man ; but some frivolous act, thoughtless word, or 
fashionable folly on her part dampens ray ardor, and 
makes me feel as if I had better go elsewhere before 
it is too late.” 

“ You are not madly in love, then?” 

“Not yet; but I should be if I saw much of her, for 
when I do I rather lose my head, and am tempted to 
fall upon my knees, regardless of time, place, and con* 
sequences.” 


5 


60 


ANNA'S WHIM. 


Frank spoke with sudden love and longing in his 
voice, and stretched out his arms so suggestively that 
Anna started. But he contented himself with gather- 
ing a rose from the clusters that hung all about, and 
Anna slapped an imaginary mosquito as energetically 
as if it had been the unknown lady, for whom she felt 
a sudden and inexplicable dislike. 

“ So you think I'd better not say to my love, like the 
mad gentleman to Mrs. Nickleby, ‘ Be mine, be mine ’ ? ” 
was Frank’s next question, as he sat with his nose luxu- 
riously buried in the fragrant heart of the rose. 

“ Decidedly not. I’m sure, from the way you speak 
of her, that she is not worthy of you; and your passion 
cannot be very deep if you can quote Dickens’s nonsense 
at such a moment,” said Anna, more cheerfully. 

“It grows rapidly, I find; and I give you my word^ 
if I should pass a week in the society of that lovely 
butterfly, it would be all over with me by Saturday 
night.” 

“ Then don’t do it.” 

“ Ah ! but I want to desperately. Do say that I may, 
just for a last nibble at temptation, before I take your 
advice and go back to my bachelor life again,” he 
prayed beseechingly. 

“ Don’t go back, love somebody else, and be happy. 
There are plenty of superior women in the world who 
would be just the thing for you. I am sure you are 
going to be a man of mark, and you must have a good 
wife, — not a silly little creature, who will be a clog 
upon you all your life. So do take my advice, and let 
me help you, if I can.” 

Anna spoke earnestly, and her face quite shone with 


ANNANS WHIM. 


67 


friendly zeal ; while her eyes were full of unspoken ad- 
miration and regard for this friend, who seemed totter- 
ing on the verge of a precipice. She expected a serious 
reply, — thanks, at least, for her interest ; and great was 
her surprise to see Frank lean hack against the vine- 
wreathed pillar behind him, and laugh till a shower c 
rose-leaves came fluttering down on both their heads. 

“ I don’t see any cause for such unseemly merriment,” 
was her dignified reproof of this new impropriety. 

“ I beg your pardon. I really couldn’t help it, for 
the comical contrast between your sage counsels and 
your blooming face upset me. Your manner was quite 
maternal and most impressive, till I looked at you in 
your French finery, and then it was all up with me,” 
said Frank, penitently, though his eyes still danced 
with mirth. 

The compliment appeased Anna’s anger ; and, folding 
her round white arms on the railing in front of her, she 
looked up at him with a laugh as blithe as his own. 

“ I dare say I was absurdly sober and important; but 
you see it is so long since I have had a really serious 
thought in my head or felt a really sincere interest in 
any one’s affairs but my own that I overdid the matter. 
If you don’t care for my advice. I’ll take it all back ; and 
you can go and marry your butterfly as soon as you 
like.” 

“ I rather think I shall,” said Frank, slowly. “ For 
I fancy she has got a hidden self, as you suggested, and 
I’d rather like to find it out. One judges people so 
much by externals that it is not fair. Now, you, for 
instance, if you won’t mind my saying it, don’t show 
half your good points ; and a casual observer would 


68 


ANNANS WHIM. 


consider you merely a fashionable woman, — lovely, but 
shallow.” 

“ As you did the last time we met,*" put in Anna, 
sharply. 

If she expected him to deny it, she was mistaken 
for he answered, with provoking candor, — 

“ Exactly. And I quite grieved about it ; for I used 
to be very fond of my little playmate and thought 
she’d make a fine woman. I’m glad I’ve seen you 
again; for I find I was unjust in my first judgment, 
and this discovery gives me hope that I may have been 
mistaken in the same way about my — well, we’ll say 
sweetheart. It’s a pretty old word and I like it.” 

“ If he only would forget that creature a minute and 
talk about something more interesting ! ” sighed Anna 
to herself. But she answered, meekly enough : “ I knew 
you were disappointed in me, and I did not wonder 
for I am not good for much, thanks to my foolish edu- 
cation and the life I have led these last few years. But 
I do sincerely wish to be more of a woman, only I have 
no one to tell me how. Everybody flatters me and”— « 

“ I don’t ! ” cried Frank, promptly. 

“ That’s true.” And Anna could not help laughing 
in the middle of her confessions at the tone of virtuous 
satisfaction with which he repelled the accusation. 
“No,” she continued, “you are honest enough for any 
one ; and I like it, though it startles me now and then, 
it is so new.” 

“I hope I’m not disrespectful,” said Frank, busily 
removing the thorns from the stem of his flower. 

“ Oh, no ! Not that exactly. But you treat me very 
much as if I was a sister or a — masculine friend.’^ 


ANNANS WHIM. 


09 


Anna meant to quote the expression Clara had re- 
ported ; but somehow the word “ wife ” was hard to 
utter, and she finished the sentence differently. 

“And you don’t like it?” asked Frank, lifting the 
rose to hide the mischievous smile that lurked about 
his mouth. 

“Yes, I do, — infinitely better than the sentimental 
homage other men pay me or the hackneyed rubbish 
they talk. It does me good to be a little neglected ; 
and I don’t mind it from you, because you more than 
atone for it by talking to me as if I could understand 
a man’s mind and had one of my own.” 

“ Then you don’t quite detest me for my rough ways 
and egotistical confidences?” asked Frank, as if sud- 
denly smitten with remorse for the small sins of the day. 

“No, I rather fancy it, for it seems like old times, 
when you and I played together. Only then I could 
help you in many ways, as you helped me ; but now I 
don’t seem to know any thing, and can be of no use to 
you or any one else. I should like to be ; and I think, 
if you would kindly tell me what books to read, what 
people to know, and what faculties to cultivate, I might 
become something besides ‘ a fashionable woman, lovely 
but shallow.’ ” 

There was a little quiver of emotion in Anna’s voice 
as she uttered the last words that did not escape her 
companion’s quick ear. But he only smiled a look of 
heartfelt satisfaction to the rose, and answered soberly. 

“ Now that is a capital idea, and I’ll do it with pleas- 
ure. I have often wondered how you bright girls could 
be contented with such an empty sort of life. We 
fellows are just as foolish for a time, I know, — far worse 


70 


ANNANS WHIM. 


in dib crops of wild oats we sow ; but we have to pull 
up and go to work, and that makes men of us. Mar- 
riage ought to do that for women, I suppose ; but it 
doesn’t seem to nowadays, and I do pity you poor little 
things from the bottom of my heart.” 

“ I’m ready now to ‘ pull up and go to work.’ Show 
me how, Frank, and I’ll change your pity into respect,” 
said Anna, casting off her lace shawl, as if preparing for 
immediate action ; for his tone of masculine superiority 
rather nettled her. 

“ Come, I’ll make a bargain with you. I’ll give you 
something strong and solid to brace up your mind, and 
in return you shall polish my manners, see to my 
morals, and keep my heart from wasting itself on false 
idols. Shall we do this for one another, Anna ? ” 

“Yes, Frank,” she answered heartily. Then, as 
Clara was seen approaching, she added playfully, “ All 
this is sub rosa, you understand.” 

He handed her the flower without a word, as if the 
emblem of silence was the best gage he could offer. 
Many flowers had been presented to the beauty ; but 
none were kept so long and carefully as the thornless 
rose her old friend gave her, with a cordial smile that 
warmed her heart. 

A great deal can happen in a week, and the seven 
days that followed that moonlight tHe-d-tete seemed to 
Anna the fullest and the happiest she had ever known. 
She had never worked so hard in her life ; for her new 
tutor gave her plenty to do, and she studied in secret 
to supply sundry deflciencies which she was too proud 
to confess. No more novels now; no more sentimental 
poetry, lounging in a hammock. She sat erect upon a 


ANNANS WHIM. 


71 


hard rock and read Buckle, Mill, and Social Science Re- 
ports with a diligence that appalled the banished daw- 
dlers who usually helped her kill time. There was early 
boating, vigorous horse exercise, and tramps over hill 
and dale, from which she returned dusty, brown, and 
tired, but as happy as if she had discovered something 
fairer and grander than wild flowers or the ocean in its 
changeful moods. There were afternoon concerts in 
the breezy drawing-rooms, when others were enjoying 
siestas, and Anna sang to her one listener as she had 
never sung before. But best of all were the moonlight 
seances among the roses ; for there they interchanged 
interesting confldences and hovered about those dan- 
gerous but delightful topics that need the magic of a 
midsummer night to make the charm quite perfect. 

Anna intended to do her part honorably ; but soon 
forgot to correct her pupil’s manners, she was so busy 
taking care of his heart. She presently discovered that 
he treated other women in the usual way ; and at first 
it annoyed her that she was the only one whom he 
allowed to pick up her own fan, walk without an arm, 
row', ride, and take care of herself as if she was a man. 
But she also discovered that she was the only woman 
to w'hom he talked as to an equal, in whom he seemed 
to find sympathy, inspiration, and help, and for whom 
he frankly showmd not admiration alone, but respect, 
confidence, and afiection. 

This made the loss of a little surface courtesy too 
trifling for complaint or reproof; this stimulated and 
delighted her ; and, in striving to deserve and secure 
it, she forgot every thing else, prouder to be one man’s 
true friend than the idol of a dozen lovers. 


72 


ANNAN'S WHIM. 


What the effect of this new league was upon the 
other party was less evident ; for, being of the unde- 
monstrative sex, he kept his observations, discoveries, 
and satisfaction to himself, with no sign of especial 
interest, except now and then a rapturous allusion to 
his sweetheart, as if absence was increasing liis passion 

Anna tried to quench his ardor, feeling sure, she said 
that it was a mistake to lavish so much love upon a 
person who was so entirely unworthy of it. But Frank 
seemed blind on this one point ; and Anna suffered 
many a pang, as day after day showed her some new 
virtue, grace, or talent in this perverse man, who 
seemed bent on throwing his valuable self away. She 
endeavored to forget it, avoided the subject as much 
as possible, and ignored the existence of this incon 
venient being entirely. But as the week drew to an 
end a secret trouble looked out at her eyes, a secret 
unrest possessed her, and every moment seemed to 
grow more precious as it passed, each full of a bitter 
sweet delight never known before. 

“ I must be off to-morrow,” said Frank, on the Sat- 
urday evening, as they strolled together on the beach, 
while the sun set gloriously and the great waves broke 
musically on the sands. 

“Such a short holiday, after all those months of 
work!” answered Anna, looking awayv lest he should 
see how wistful her tell-tale eyes were. 

“ I may take a longer holiday, the happiest a man 
can have, if somebody will go with me. Anna, I’ve 
made up my mind to . try my fate,” he added impetu- 
ously. 

“ I have warned you , I can do no more.” Which 


ANNA'S WHIM. 


73 


was quite true, for the poor girl’s heart sunk at his 
wonis, and for a moment all the golden sky was a blur 
before her eyes. 

“ I won’t be warned, thank you ; for I’m quite sure 
now that I love her. Nothing like absence to settle 
that point. I’ve tried it, and I can’t get on without 
her ; so I’m going to ‘ put my fortune to the touch and 
win or lose it all.’ ” 

“ If you truly love her, I hope you will win, and find 
her the wife you deserve. But think well before you 
put your happiness into any woman’s hands,” said 
Anna, bravely trying to forget herself. 

“ Bless you ! I’ve hardly thought of any thing else 
this week! I’ve enjoyed myself, though ; and am very 
grateful to you for making my visit so pleasant,” Frank 
added warmly. 

“Have I? I’m so glad!” said Anna, as simply as 
a pleased child ; for real love had banished all her small 
coquetries, vanities, and affectations, as sunshine absorbs 
the mists that hide a lovely landscape. 

“ Indeed, you have. All the teaching has not been 
on my side, I assure you ; and I’m not too proud to own 
my obligation to a woman. We lonely fellows, who 
have neither mother, sister, nor wife, need some gentle 
soul to keep us from getting selfish, hard, and worldly ; 
and few are so fortunate as I in having a friend like 
little Anna.” 

“ Oh, Frank ! what have I done for you ? I haven’t 
dared to teach one so much wiser and stronger than 
myself. I’ve only wanted to, and grieved because I 
was so ignorant, so weak, and silly,” cried Anna, glow- 
ing beautifully with surprise and pleasure at this un* 
expected revelation. 


74 


ANNA'S WHIM. 


“Your humility blinded you; yet your unconacioua* 
ness was half the charm. I’ll tell you what you did, 
dear. A man’s moral sense gets blunted knocking 
about this rough-and-tumble world, where the favorite 
maxim is, ‘Every man for himself and the Devil take 
the hindmost.’ It is so with me ; and in many of our 
conversations on various subjects, while I seemed to bo 
teaching you, your innocent integrity was rebuking my 
worldly wisdom, your subtle instincts were pointing 
out the right which is above all policy, your womanly 
charity softening my hard judgments, and your simple 
faith in the good, the beautiful, the truly brave was 
waking up the high and happy beliefs that lay, not 
dead, but sleeping, in my soul. All this you did for 
me, Anna, and even more ; for, in showing me the hid- 
den side of your nature, I found it so sweet and deep 
and worshipful that it restores my faith in womankind, 
and shows me all the lovely possibilities that may lie 
folded up under the frivolous exterior of a fashionable 
woman.” 

Anna’s heart was so full she could not speak for a 
moment; then like a dash of cold water came the 
thought, “And all this that I have done has only put 
him further from me, since it has given him courage to 
love and trust that woman.” She tried to show only 
pleasure at his praise ; but for the life of her she could 
not keep a tone of bitterness out of her voice as she 
answered gratefully, — 

“You are too kind, Frank. I can hardly believe that 
I have so many virtues ; but if I have, and they, like 
yours, have been asleep, remember you helped wake 
them up, and so you owe me nothing Keep your 


ANNA'S WHIM. 


lb 


sweet speeches for the lady you go to woo. I am con- 
tented with honest words that do not flatter.” 

“You shall have them;” and a quick smile passed 
over Frank’s face, as if he knew what thorn pricked 
her just then, and was not ill pleased at the discovery. 
“ Only, if I lose my sweetheart, I may be sure that my 
old friend won’t desert me ? ” he asked, with a sincere 
anxiety that was a balm to Anna’s sore heart. 

She did not speak, but ofiered him her hand with 
a look which said much. He took it as silently, and, 
holding it in a firm, warm grasp, led her up to a cleft 
in the rocks, where they often sat to watch the great 
breakers thunder in. As she took her seat, he folded 
his plaid about her so tenderly that it felt like a friendly 
arm shielding her from the fresh gale that blew up from 
the sea. It was an unusual attention on his part, and 
coming just then it affected her so curiously that, when 
he lounged down beside her, she felt a strong desire to 
..ay her head on his shoulder and sob out, — 

“Don’t go and leave me! Ho one loves you half as 
well as I, or heeds you half so much!” 

Of course, she did nothing of the sort ; but began to 
sing, as she covertly whisked away a rebellious tear. 
Frank soon interrupted her music, however, by a heavy 
sigh ; and followed up that demonstration with the 
tragical announcement, — 

“Anna, I’ve got something awful to tell you.” 

“ What is it ? ” she asked, with the resignation of one 
who has already heard the worst. 

“It is so bad that I can’t look you in the face while 
I tell it. Listen calmly till I am done, and then pitch 
me overboard if you like, for I deserve it,” was Ida 
cheerful beginning 


76 


ANNA'S WHIM. 


“ (to on.’' And Anna prepared herself to receive 
some tremendous shock with masculine firmness. 

Frank pulled his hat over his eyes, and, looking 
away from her, said rapidly, with an odd sound in his 
voice, — 

“ The night I came I was put in a room opening on 
the back piazza ; and, lying there to rest and cool after 
my journey, I heard two ladies talking. I knocked my 
boots about to let them know I was near ; but they took 
no notice, so I listened. Most women’s gabble would 
have sent me to sleep in five minutes ; but this was 
rather original, and interested me, especially when I 
found by the names mentioned that I knew one of the 
parties. I’ve been trying your experiment all the week. 
Anna, how do you like it ? ” 

She did not answer for a moment, being absorbed in 
swift retrospection. Then she colored to her hat-brim, 
looked angry, hurt, amused, gratified, and ashamed, all 
in a minute, and said slowly, as she met his laughing 
eyes,— 

“ Better than I thought I should.” 

“ That’s good ! Then you forgive me for my eaves- 
dropping, my rudeness, and manifold iniquities? It 
was abominable ; but I could not resist the temptation 
of testing your sincerity. It was great fun; but I’m 
not sure that I shall not get the worst of it, after all,” 
said Frank, sobering suddenly. 

“ You have played so many jokes upon me in old 
times that I don’t find it hard to forgive this one; 
though I think it rather base in you to deceive me so. 
Still, as I have enjoyed and got a good deal out of it, 
I don’t complain, and won’t send you overboard yet,” 
said Anna, generously. 


ANNA'S WHIM. 


77 


“You always were a forgiving angel.” And Frank 
settled the plaid again more tenderly than before. 

“ It was this, then, that made you so brusque to me 
alone, so odd and careless ? I could not understand it 
and it hurt me at first ; but I thought it was because we 
had been children together and soon forgot it, you were 
80 kind and confidential, so helpful and straightforward. 
It was ‘great fun,’ for I always knew you meant what 
you said ; and that was an unspeakable comfort to me 
in this world of flattery and falsehood. Yes, you may 
laugh at me, Frank, and leave me to myself again. I 
can bear it, for I’ve proved that my whim was a possi- 
bility. I see my way now, and can go on alone to a 
truer, happier life than that in which you found me.” 

She spoke out bravely, and looked above the level 
sands and beyond the restless sea, as if she had found 
something worth living for and did not fear the future. 
Frank watched her an instant, for her face had nevei 
worn so noble an expression before. Sorrow as well 
as strength had come into the lovely features, and pain 
as well as patience touched them with new beauty. 
His own face changed as he looked, as if he let loose 
some deep and tender sentiment, long held in check, now 
ready to rise and claim its own. 

“ Anna,” he said penitently, “ I’ve got one other ter- 
rible confession to make, and then my conscience will 
be clear. I want to tell you who my sweetheart is. 
Here's her picture. Will you look at it?” 

She gave a little shiver, turned steadily, and looked 
vvhere he pointed. But all she saw was her own aston- 
ished face reflected in the shallow pool behind them. 
One glance at Frank made any explanation needless; 


78 


ANNA’S WHIM. 


indeed, there was no time for her to speak before some- 
thing closer than the plaid enfolded her, something 
warmer than tears touched, her cheek, and a voice 
sweeter to her than wind or wave whispered tenderly 
in her ear, — 

“ All this week I have been studying and enjoying 
far more than you ; for I have read a woman’s heart and 
learned to trust and honor what I have loved ever since I 
was a boy. Absence proved this to me : so I came to 
look for little Anna, and found her better and dearer 
than ever. May I ask her to keep on teaching me? 
Will she share my work as well as holiday, and be the 
truest friend a man can have ? ” 

And Anna straightway answered, “ Yes, ” 


TRANSCENDENTAL WILD OATS. 


A CHAPTER FROM AN UNWRITTEN ROIilANCE. 


O N the first day of June, 184-, a large wagon, drawn 
by a small horse and containing a motley load, 
went lumbering over certain New England hills, with 
the pleasing accompaniments of wind, rain, and hail. 
A serene man with a serene child upon his knee was 
driving, or rather being driven, for the small horse had 
it all his own way. A brown boy with a William Penn 
style of countenance sat beside him, firmly embracing a 
bust of Socrates. Behind them was an energetic-looking 
woman, with a benevolent brow, satirical mouth, and 
eyes brimful of hope and courage. A baby reposed 
upon her lap, a mirror leaned against her knee, and a 
basket of provisions danced about at her feet, as she 
struggled with a large, unruly umbrella. Two blue- 
eyed little girls, with hands full of childish treasures, 
sat under one old shawl, chatting happily together. 

In front of this lively party stalked a tall, sharp- 
featured man, in a long blue cloak ; and a fourth small 
girl trudged along beside him through the mud as if 
she rather enjoyed it. 

The wind whistled over the bleak hills ; the rain fell 
in a despondent drizzle, and twilight began to fall. But 
the calm man gazed as tranquilly into the fog as if he 


80 


TRANSCENDENTAL WILD OATS. 


beheld a radiant bow of promise spanning the gray sky 
The cheery woman tried to cover every one but herself 
with the big umbrella. The brown boy pillowed hia 
head on the bald pate of Socrates and slumbered peace- 
fully. The little girls sang lullabies to their dolls in 
soft, maternal murmurs. The sharp-nosed pedestrian 
marched steadily on, with the blue cloak streaming out 
behind him like a banner ; and the lively infant splashed 
through the puddles with a duck-like satisfaction pleas- 
ant to behold. 

Thus these modern pilgrims journeyed hopefully out 
of the old world, to found a new one in the wilderness. 

The editors of “ The Transcendental Tripod ” had re- 
ceived from Messrs. Lion & Lamb (two of the aforesaid 
pilgrims) a communication from which the following 
statement is an extract : — 

“We have made arrangements with the proprietor 
of an estate of about a hundred acres which liberates 
this tract from human ownership. Here we shall prose- 
cute our effort to initiate a Family in harmony with the 
primitive instincts of man. 

“ Ordinary secular farming is not our object. Fruit, 
grain, pulse, herbs, flax, and other vegetable products, 
receiving assiduous attention, will afford ample manual 
occupation, and chaste supplies for the bodily needs. 
It is intended to adorn the pastures with orchards, and 
to supersede the labor of cattle by the spade and the 
pruning-knife. 

“ Consecrated to human freedom, the land awaits the 
sober culture of devoted men. Beginning with small 
pecuniary means, this enterprise must be rooted in a 
reliance on the succors of an ever-bounteous Providence, 


TBANSCENDENTAL WILD OATS, 


81 


whose vital affinities being secured by this union with 
uncoiTupted field and unworldly persons, the cares and 
injuries of a life of gain are avoided. 

“ The inner nature of each member of the Family is 
at no time neglected. Our plan contemplates all such 
disciplines, cultures, and habits as evidently conduce to 
the j)urifying of the inmates. 

“ Pledged to the spirit alone, the founders anticipate 
no hasty or numerous addition to their numbers. The 
kingdom of peace is entered only through the gates of 
self-denial ; and felicity is the test and the reward of 
loyalty to the unswerving law of Love.” 

This prospective. Eden at present consisted of an old 
red farm-house, a dilapidated barn, many acres of 
meadow-land, and a grove. Ten ancient apple-trees 
were all the “ chaste supply ” which the place offered as 
yet; but, in the firm belief that plenteous orchards 
were soon to be evoked from their inner consciousness, 
these sanguine founders had christened their domain 
Fruitlands. 

Here Timon Lion intended to found a colony of 
Latter Day Saints, who, under his patriarchal sway, 
should regenerate the world and glorify his name for 
ever. Here Abel Lamb, with the devoutest faith in 
the high ideal which was to him a living truth, desired 
to plant a Paradise, where Beauty, Virtue, J ustice, and 
Love might live happily together, without the possi- 
bility of a serpent entering in. And here his wife, un- 
converted but faithful to the end, hoped, after many 
wanderings over the face of the earth, to find rest for 
herself and a home for her children. 

“ There is our new abode,” announced the enthusiast, 
6 


82 


TRANSCENDENTAL WILD OATS. 


smiling with a satisfaction quite undamped by the drops 
dripping from his hat-brim, as they turned at length 
into a cart-path that wound along a steep hillside into 
a barren-looking valley. 

“ A little difficult of access,” observed his practical 
wife, as she endeavored to keep her various household 
gods from going overboard with every lurch of the 
laden ark. 

“Like all good things. But those who earnestly 
desire and patiently seek will soon find us,” placidly 
responded the philosopher from the mud, through which 
he was now endeavoring to pilot the much-enduring 
horse. 

“ Truth lies at the bottom of a well. Sister Hope,” 
said Brother Timon, pausing to detach his small com- 
rade from a gate, whereon she was perched for a clearer 
gaze into futurity. 

“ That’s the reason we so seldom get at it, I sup- 
pose,” replied Mrs. Hope, making a vain clutch at the 
mirror, which a sudden jolt sent flying out of her 
hands. 

“We want no false reflections here,” said Timon, 
with a grim smile, as he crunched the fragments under 
foot in his onward march. 

Sister Hope held her peace, and looked wistfully 
through the mist at her promised home. The old red 
house with a hospitable glimmer at its windows cheered 
her eyes; and, considering the weather, was a fitter 
refuge than the sylvan bowers some of the moie ar- 
dent souls might have preferred. 

The new-comers were welcomed by one of the elect 
precious, — a regenerate farmer, wffiose idea of reform 


TRANSCENDENTAL WILD OATS. 


83 


consisted chiefly in wearing white cotton raiment and 
shoes of untanned leather. This costume, with a snowy 
beard, gave him a venerable, and at the same time a 
somewhat bridal appearance. 

The goods and chattels of the Society not having 
arrived, the weary family reposed before the fire on 
blocks of wood, while Brother Moses White regaled 
them with roasted potatoes, brown bread and water, 
ill two plates, a tin pan, and one mug; his table ser- 
vice being limited. But, having cast the forms and 
vanities of a depraved world behind them, the elders 
welcomed hardship with the enthusiasm of new pio- 
neers, and the children heartily enjoyed this foretaste 
of what they believed was to be a sort of perpetual 
picnic. 

During the progress of this frugal meal, two more 
brothers appeared. One a dark, melancholy man, clad 
in homespun, whose peculiar mission was to turn his 
name hind part before and use as few words as possi- 
ble. The other was a bland, bearded Englishman, who 
expected to be saved by eating uncooked food and 
going without clothes. He had not yet adopted the 
primitive costume, however; but contented himself 
with meditatively chewing dry beans out of a basket. 

“ Every meal should be a sacrament, and the vessels 
used should be beautiful and symbolical,” observed 
Brother Lamb, mildly, righting the tin pan slipping 
about on his knees. “I priced a silver service when in 
town, but it was too costly ; so I got some graceful 
cups and vases of Britannia ware.” 

“ Hardest things in the world to keep bright. Will 
»?hiting be allowed in the community?” inauired 


84 


TRANSCENDENTAL WILD OATS. 


Sister Hope, with a housewife’s interest in labor-saving 
institutions. 

“Such trivial questions will be discussed at a mor^ 
fitting time,” answered Brother Timon, sharply, as l*#s 
Imrnt his fingers with a very hot potato. “Neithei 
sugar, molasses, milk, butter, cheese, nor flesh are to bo 
used among us, for nothing is to be admitted which has 
caused wrong or death to man or beast.” 

“ Our garments are to be linen till we learn to raise 
our own cotton or some substitute for woollen fabrics,” 
added Brother Abel, blissfully basking in an imaginary 
future as warm and brilliant as the generous fire before 
him. 

“Haou abaout shoes?” asked Brother Moses, sur- 
veying his own with interest. 

“ We must yield that point till we can manufacture 
an innocent substitute for leather. Bark, wood, or some 
durable fabric will be invented in time. Meanwhile, 
those who desire to carry out our idea to the fullest 
extent can go barefooted,” said Lion, who liked extreme 
measures. 

“ I never will, nor let my girls,” murmured rebellious 
Sister Hope, under her breath. 

“ Haou do you cattle’ate to treat the ten-acre lot ? 
Ef things ain’t ’tended to right smart, we shan’t hev no 
crops,” observed the practical patriarch in cotton. 

“We shall spade it,” replied Abel, in such perfect 
good faith that Moses said no more, though he indulged 
in a shake of the head as he glanced at hands that had 
held nothing heavier than a pen for years. He was a 
paternal old soul and regarded the younger men as 
promising boys on a new sort of lark. 


TRANSCENDENTAL WILD OATS, 


85 


“ Wliat shall we do for lamps, if we cannot use any 
animal substance ? I do hope light of some sort is to 
be thrown upon the enterprise,” said Mrs. Lamb, with 
anxiety, for in those days kerosene and camphene were 
not, and gas unknown in the wilderness. 

“We shall go without till we have discovered some 
vegetable oil or wax to serve us,” replied Brother 
Timon, in a decided tone, which caused Sister Hope to 
resolve that her private lamp should be always trimmed, 
if not burning. 

“ Each member is to perfoim the work for which 
experience, strength, and taste best fit him,” continued 
Dictator Lion. “ Thus drudgery and disorder will be 
avoided and harmony prevail. We shall rise at dawn, 
begin the day by bathing, followed by music, and then 
a chaste repast of fruit and bread. Each one finds con- 
genial occupation till the meridian meal; when some 
deep-searching conversation gives rest to the body and 
development to the mind. Healthful labor again en- 
gages us till the last meal, when we assemble in social 
communion, prolonged till sunset, when we retire to 
sweet repose, ready for the next day’s activity.” 

“ What part of the work do you incline to yourself? ” 
asked Sister Hope, with a humorous glimmer in hex 
keen eyes. 

“ I shall wait till it is made clear to me. Being in 
preference to doing is the great aim, and this comes t<s 
us rather by a resigned willingness than a wilful activ- 
ity, which is a check to all divine growth,” responded 
Brother Timon. 

“ I thought so.” And Mrs. Lamb sighed audibly, for 
during the year he had spent in her family Bi other 


86 


TRANSCENDENTAL WILD OATS, 


Timon had so faithfully carried out his idea of “ beingi 
not doing,” that she had found his “ divine growth ’* 
both an expensive and unsatisfactory process. 

Here her husband struck into the conversation, his 
face shining with the light and joy of the splendid 
dreams and high ideals hovering before him. 

“ In these steps of reform, we do not rely so much 
on scientific reasoning or physiological skill as on the 
spirit’s dictates. The greater part of man’s duty con- 
sists in leaving alone much that he now does. Shall I 
stimulate with tea, cofiee, or wine? No. Shall I con- 
sume flesh? Not if I value health. Shall I subjugate 
<jattle ? Shall I claim property in any created thing ? 
Shall I trade ? Shall I adopt a form of religion ? Shall 
I interest myself in poli tics ? To how many of these 
questions — could we ask them deeply enough and 
could they be heard as having relation to our eternal 
welfare — would the response be ‘ Abstain ’ ? ” 

A mild snore seemed to echo the last word of Abel’s 
rhapsody, for Brother Moses had succumbed to mun- 
dane slumber and sat nodding like a massive ghost. 
Forest Absalom, the silent man, and John Pease, the 
English member, now departed to the barn ; and Mrs. 
Lamb led her flock to a temporary fold, leaving the 
founders of the “ Consociate Family ” to build castles 
in the air till the fire went out and the symposium 
ended in smoke. 

The furniture arrived next day, and was soon be- 
stowed; for the principal property of the commtinity 
consisted in books. To this rare library was devoted 
the best room in the house, and the few busts and pict- 
ures that still survived many flittings were added to 


TRANSCENDENTAL WILD OATS. 


87 


beautify the sanctuary, for here the family was to meet 
for amusement, instruction, and worship. 

Any housewife can imagine the emotions of Sister 
Hope, when she took possession of a large, dilapidated 
kitchen, containing an old stove and the peculiar stores 
out of which food was to be evolved for her little 
family of eleven. Cakes of maple sugar, dried peas and 
beans, barley and hominy, meal of all sorts, potatoes, 
and dried fruit. No milk, butter, cheese, tea, or meat, 
appeared. Even salt was considered a useless luxury 
and spice entirely forbidden by these lovers of Spartan 
simplicity. A ten years’ experience of vegetarian vaga- 
ries had been good training for this new freak, and her 
sense of the ludicrous supported her through many try- 
ing scenes. 

Unleavened bread, porridge, and water for breakfast, 
bread, vegetables, and water for dinner; bread, fruit, 
and water for supper was the bill of fare ordained by 
the elders. No teapot profaned that sacred stove, no 
gory steak cried aloud for vengeance from her chaste 
gridiron ; and only a brave woman’s taste, time, and 
temper were sacrificed on that domestic altar. 

The vexed question of light was settled by buying 
a quantity of bayberry wax for candles ; and, on dis- 
covering that no one knew how to make them, pine 
knots were introduced, to be used when absolutely 
necessary. Being summer, the evenings were not long, 
and the weary fraternity found it no great hardship to 
retire with the birds. The inner light was sufiicient 
lor most of them. But Mrs. Lamb rebelled. Evening 
was the only time she had to herself, and while the 
tired feet rested the skilful hands mended torn frocks 


88 


TRANSCENDENTAu WILD OATS. 


and little stockings, or anxious heart forgot its burden 
in a book. 

So “mother’s lamp” burned steadily, while the 
philosophers built a new heaven and earth by moon- 
light ; and through all the metaphysical mists and phil- 
anthropic pyrotechnics of that period Sister Hope 
played her own little game of “ throwing light,” and 
none but the moths were the worse for it. 

Such farming probably was never seen before since 
Adam delved. The band of brothers began by spading 
garden and field ; but a few days of it lessened their 
ardor amazingly. Blistered hands and aching backs 
suggested the expediency of permitting the use of 
cattle till the workers were better fitted for noble toil 
by a summer of the new life. 

Brother Moses brought a yoke of oxen from his 
farm, — at least, the philosophers thought so till it was 
discovered that one of the animals was a cow; and 
Moses confessed that he “ must be let down easy, for he 
couldn’t live on garden sarse entirely.” 

Great was Dictator Lion’s indignation at this lapse 
from virtue. But time pressed, the work must be 
done ; so the meek cow was permitted to wear the 
yoke and the recreant brother continued to enjoy for- 
bidden draughts in the barn, which dark proceeding 
caused the children to regard him as one set apart for 
destruction. 

The sowing was equally peculiar, for, owing to some 
mistake, the three brethren, who devoted themselves to 
this graceful task, found when about half through the 
job that each had been sowing a difierent sort of grain 
in the same field ; a mistake which caused much per* 


TRANSCENDENTAL WILD OATS, 


89 


plexity, as it could not be remedied; but, after a long 
consultation and a good deal of laughter, it was de- 
cided to say nothing and see what would come of it. 

The garden was planted with a generous supply of 
useful roots and herbs ; but, as manure was not allowed 
to profane the virgin soil, few of these vegetable treas- 
ures ever came up. Purslane reigned supreme, and the 
disappointed planters ate it philosophically, deciding 
that Nature knew what was best for them, and would 
generously supply their needs, if they could only learn 
to digest her ‘‘sallets” and wild roots. 

The orchard was laid out, a little grafting done, new 
trees and vines set, regardless of the unfit season and 
entire ignorance of the husbandmen, who honestly 
believed that in the autumn they would reap a boun 
teous harvest. 

Slowly things got into order, and rapidly rumors of 
the new experiment went abroad, causing many strange 
spirits to flock thither, for in those days communities 
were the fashion and transcendentalism raged wildly. 
Some came to look on and laugh, some to be supported 
in poetic idleness, a few to believe sincerely and work 
heartily. Each member was allowed to mount his 
favorite hobby and ride it to his heart’s content. Very 
queer were some of the riders, and very rampant some 
of the hobbies.- 

One youth, believing that language was of little 
consequence if the spirit was only right, startled 
new-comers by blandly greeting them with “good- 
morning, damn you,” and other remarks of an equally 
mixed order. A second irrepressible being held 
that all the emotions of the soul should be freely ex- 


m 


TRANSCENDENTAL WILD OATS, 


pressed, and illustrated his theory by antics that would 
have sent him to a lunatic asylum, if, as an unregen- 
erate wag said, he had not already been in one. When 
his spirit soared, he climbed trees and shouted; when 
doubt assailed him, he lay upon the floor and groaned 
lamentably. At joyful periods, he raced, leaped, and 
sang ; when sad, he wept aloud ; and when a great 
thought burst upon him in the watches of the night, 
he crowed like a jocund cockerel, to the great delight 
of the children and the great annoyance of the elders. 
One musical brother fiddled whenever so moved, sang 
sentimentally to the four little girls, and put a music- 
box on the wall when he hoed corn. 

Brother Pease ground away at his uncooked food, or 
browsed over the farm on sorrel, mint, green fruit, and 
new vegetables. Occasionally he took his walks abroad, 
airily attired in an unbleached cotton poncho^ which 
was the nearest approach to the primeval costume he 
was allowed to indulge in. At midsummer he retired 
to the wilderness, to try his plan where the woodchucks 
were without prejudices and huckleberry-bushes were 
hospitably full. A sunstroke unfortunately spoilt his 
plan, and he returned to semi-civilization a sadder and 
wiser man. 

Forest Absalom preserved his Pythagorean silence, 
cultivated his fine dark locks, and worked like a beaver, 
setting an excellent example of brotherly love, justice, 
and fidelity by his upright life, He it was who helped 
overworked Sister Hope with her heavy washes, 
kneaded the endless succession of batches of bread, 
watched over the children, and did the many tasks left 
undone by the brethren, who were so busy discussing 


TBANSGENDENTAL WILD OATS, 


91 


and defining great duties that they foigot to perform 
the small ones. 

Moses White placidly plodded about, “chorin’ 
raound,” as he called it, looking like an old-time patri- 
arch, with his silver hair and flowing beard, and saving 
the community from many a mishap by his thrift and 
Yankee shrewdness. 

Brother Lion domineered over the whole concern ; 
for, liaving put the most money into the speculation, he 
w^as resolved to make it pay, — as if any thing founded 
on an ideal basis could be expected to do so by any but 
enthusiasts. 

Abel Lamb simply revelled in the Newness, firmly 
believing that his dream was to be beautifully realized^ 
and in time not only little Fruitlands, but the whole 
earth, be turned into a Happy Valley. He worked 
with every muscle of his body, for he was in deadly 
earnest. He taught with his whole head and heart ; 
planned and sacrificed, preached and prophesied, with a 
soul full of the purest aspirations, most unselfish pur- 
poses, and desires for a life devoted to God and man, 
too high and tender to bear the rough usage of this 
world. 

It was a little remarkable that only one woman ever 
joined this community. Mrs. Lamb merely followed 
wheresoever her husband led, — “as ballast for hia 
balloon,” as she said, in her bright way. 

Miss Jane Gage was a stout lady of mature years, 
sentimental, amiable, and lazy. She wrote verses co- 
piously, and had vague yearnings and graspings after 
the unknown, which led her to believe herself fitted 
for a higher sphere than any she had yet adorned. 


92 


TEANSGENDENTAL WILD OATS. 


Having been a teacher, she was set to instructing the 
children in the common branches. Each adult mem- 
ber took a turn at the infants ; and, as each taught in 
his own way, the result was a chronic state of chaos in 
the minds of these much-afflicted innocents. 

Sleep, food, and poetic musings were the desires of 
dear Jane’s life, and she shirked all duties as clogs upon 
her spirit’s wings. Any thought of lending a hand 
with the domestic drudgery never occurred to her; 
and when to the question, “ Are there any beasts of 
burden on the place?” Mrs. Lamb answered, with a 
face that told its own tale, “ Only one woman ! ” the 
buxom Jane took no shame to herself, but laughed at 
the joke, and let the stout-hearted sister tug on alone. 

Unfortunately, the poor lady hankered after the flesh- 
pots, and endeavored to stay herself with private sips 
of milk, crackers, and cheese, and on one dire occasion 
she partook of fish at a neighbor’s table. 

One of the children reported this sad lapse from 
virtue, and poor Jane was publicly reprimanded by 
Timon. 

‘‘I only took a little bit of the tail,” sobbed the 
penitent poetess. 

“Yes, but the whole fish had to be tortured and slain 
that you might tempt your carnal appetite with that 
one taste of the tail. Know ye not, consumers of flesh 
meat, that ye are nourishing the wolf and tiger in your 
bosoms ? ” 

At this awful question and the peal of laughter which 
arose from some of the younger brethren, tickled by 
the ludicrous contrast between the stout sinner, the 
stern judge, and the naughty satisfaction of the young 


TRAliSCENDENTAL WILD OATS. 


93 


detective, poor Jane fled from the room to pack her 
trunk, and return to a world where fishes’ tails were 
not forbidden fruit. 

Transcendental wild oats were sown broadcast that 
year, and the fame thereof has not yet ceased in the 
land ; for, futile as this crop seemed to outsiders, it bore 
an invisible harvest, worth much to those who planted 
in earnest. As none of the members of this particular 
community have ever recounted their experiences be- 
fore, a few of them may not be amiss, since the interest 
in these attempts has never died out and Fruitlands 
was the most ideal of all these castles in Spain. 

A new dress was invented, since cotton, silk, and 
wool were forbidden as the product of slave-labor, 
worm-slaughter, and sheep-robbery. Tunics and trow- 
sers of brown linen were the only wear. The women’s 
skirts were longer, and their straw hat-brims wider than 
the men’s, and this was the only diflerence. Some per- 
secution lent a charm to the costume, and the long- 
haired, linen-clad reformers quite enjoyed the mild 
martyrdom they endured when they left home. 

Money was abjured, as the root of all evil. The 
produce of the land was to supply most of their wants, 
or be exchanged for the few things they could not 
grow. This idea had its inconveniences ; but self- 
denial was the fashion, and it was surprising how many 
things one can do without. When they desired to 
travel, they walked, if possible, begged the loan of a 
vehicle, or boldly entered car or coach, and, stating 
their principles to the officials, took the consequences. 
Usually their dress, their earnest frankness, and gentle 
resolution won them a passage j but now and then they 


94 


TRANSCENDENTAL WILD OATS. 


met with hard usage, and had the satisfaction of suffer* 
ing for their principles. 

On one of these penniless pilgrimages they took pas- 
sage on a boat, and, when fare was demanded, artlessly 
offered to talk, instead of pay. As the boat was well 
under way and they actually had not a cent, there 
was no help for it. So Brothers Lion and Lamb held 
forth to the assembled passengers in their most elo- 
quent style. There must have been something effec- 
tive in this conversation, for the listeners were moved 
to take up a contribution for these inspired lunatics, 
who preached peace on earth and good-will to man so 
earnestly, with empty pockets. A goodly sum was col- 
lected ; but when the captain presented it the reformers 
proved that they were consistent even in their mad- 
ness, for not a penny would they accept, saying, with 
a look at the group about them, whose indifference or 
contempt had changed to interest and respect, “You 
see how well we get on without money ; ” and so went 
serenely on their way, with their linen blouses flapping 
airily in the cold October wind. 

They preached vegetarianism everywhere and re- 
sisted all temptations of the flesh, contentedly eating 
apples and bread at well-spread tables, and much afflict- 
ing hospitable hostesses by denouncing their food and 
taking away their appetites, discussing the “horrors of 
shambles,” the “incorporation of the brute in man,” 
and “ on elegant abstinence the sign of a pure soul.” 
But, when the perplexed or offended ladies asked what 
they should eat, they got in reply a bill of fare consist- 
ing of “ bowls of sunrise for breakfast,” “ solar seeds 
of the sphere,” “ dishes from Plutarch’s chaste table,” 


TRANSCENDENTAL WILD OATS. 


95 


and other viands equally hard to find in any modern 
market. 

Reform conventions of all sorts were haunted by 
these brethren, who said many wise things and did 
many foolish ones. Unfortunately, these wanderings 
interfered with their harvest at home ; but the rule was 
to do what the spirit moved, so they left their crops to 
Providence and went a-reaping in wider and, let us 
hope, more fruitful fields than their own. 

Luckily, the earthly providence who watched over 
Abel Lamb was at hand to glean the scanty crop 
yielded by the “ uncorrupted land,” which, “ consecrated 
to human freedom,” had received “the sober culture 
of devout men.” 

About the time the grain was ready to house, some 
call of the Oversoul wafted all the men away. An 
easterly storm was coming up and the yellow stacks 
were sure to be ruined. Then Sister Hope gathered 
her forces. Three little girls, one boy (Timon’s son), 
and herself, harnessed to clothes-baskets and Russia- 
linen sheets, were the only teams she could command; 
but with these poor appliances the indomitable woman 
got in the grain and saved food for her young, with 
the instinct and energy of a mother-bird with a brood 
of hungry nestlings to feed. 

This attempt at regeneration had its tragic as well as 
comic side, though the world only saw the former. 

With the first frosts, the butterflies, who had sunned 
themselves in the new light through the summer, took 
riight, leaving the few bees to see what honey they had 
stored for winter use. Precious little appeared beyond 
the satisfaction of a few months of holy living. 


96 


TRANSCENDENTAL WILD OATS. 


At first it seemed as if a chance to try holy dying also 
was to be offered them. Timon, much disgusted with 
the failure of the scheme, decided to retire to the Shakers, 
who seemed to be the only successful community going. 

“ What is to become of us ? ” asked Mrs. Hope, for 
Abel was heart-broken at the bursting of his lovely 
bubble. 

“ You can stay here, if you like, till a tenant is found. 
No more wood must be cut, however, and no more corn 
ground. All I have must be sold to pay the debts of 
the concern, as the responsibility rests with me,” was 
the cheering reply. 

“ Who is to pay us for what we have lost ? I gave all 
I had, — furniture, time, strength, six months of my 
children’s lives, — and all are wasted. Abel gave him- 
self body and soul, and is almost wrecked by hard work 
and disappointment. Are we to have no return for this, 
but leave to starve and freeze in an old house, with 
winter at hand, no money, and hardly a friend left, 
for this wild scheme has alienated nearly all we had. 
You talk much about justice. Let us have a little, 
since there is nothing else left.” 

But the woman’s appeal met with no reply but the 
old one; “It was an experiment. We all risked some- 
thing, and must bear oui losses as we can.” 

With this cold comfort, Timon departed with his son, 
and was absorbed into the Shaker brotherhood, where 
he soon found that the order of things was reversed, 
and it was all work and no play. 

Then the tragedy began for the forsaken little family. 
Desolation and despair fell upon Abel. As his wife 
said, his new beliefs had alienated many friends. Some 


TRANSCENDENTAL WILD OATS. 


9t 


thovight him mad, some unprincipled. Even the most 
kindly thought him a visionary, whom it was useless to 
help till he took more practical views of life. All stood 
aloof, saying : “ Let him work out his own ideas, and 
see wliat they are worth.” 

He had tried, but it w'as a fxilure. The world was 
not ready for Utopia yet, and those who attempted to 
found it only got laughed at for their pains. In other 
days, men could sell all and give to the poor, lead lives 
devoted to holiness and high thought, and, after the 
persecution was over, find themselves honored as saints 
or martyrs. But in modern times these things are out 
of fashion. To live for one’s principles, at all costs, is 
a dangerous speculation ; and the failure of an ideal, no 
matter how humane and noble, is harder for the world 
to forgive and forget than bank robbery or the grand 
swindles of corrupt politicians. 

Deep waters now for Abel, and for a time there 
seemed no passage through. Strength and spirits were 
exhausted by hard work and too much thought. Cour- 
age failed when, looking about for help, he saw no 
sympathizing face, no hand outstretched to help him, 
no voice to say cheerily, — 

“We all make mistakes, and it takes many experi- 
ences to shape a life. Try again, and let us help you.” 

Every door was closed, every eye averted, every 
heart cold, and no way open whereby he might earn 
bread for his children. His principles would not permit 
him to do many things that others did ; and in the few 
fields where conscience would allow him to work, wlio 
would employ a man who had flown in the face of 
society, as he had done ? 


7 


98 


TRANSCENDENTAL WILD OATS. 


Then this dreamer, whose dream was the life of hia 
life, resolved to carry out his idea to the bitter end. 
There seemed no place for him here, — no work, no 
friend. To go begging conditions was as ignoble as 
to go begging money. Better perish of want than sell 
one’s soul for the sustenance of his body. Silently he 
lay down upon his bed, turned his face to the wall, and 
waited with pathetic patience for death to cut the knot 
winch he could not untie. Days and nights went by, 
and neither food nor water passed his lips. Soul and 
body were dumbly struggling together, and no word of 
complaint betrayed what either suffered. 

His wife, when tears and prayers were unavailing, 
sat down to wait the end wdth a mysterious awe and 
submission ; for in this entire resignation of all things 
there was an eloquent significance to her who knew him 
as no other human being did. 

“ Leave all to God,” was his belief ; and in this crisis 
the loving soul clung to this faith, sure that the All- 
wise Father would not desert this child who tried to 
live so near to Him. Gathering her children about her, 
she waited the issue of the tragedy that was being en- 
acted in that solitary room, while the first snow fell out- 
side, untrodden by the footprints of a single friend. 

But the strong angels who sustain and teach per- 
plexed and troubled souls came and went, leaving no 
trace without, but working miracles within. For, when 
all other sentiments had faded into dimness, all other 
hopes died utterly; when the bitterness of death was 
nearly over, when body was past any pang of hunger or 
thirst, and soul stood ready to depart, the love that out- 
lives all else refused to die. Head had bowed to defeat, 


transcendental wild oats. 


99 


hand had grown weary with too heavy tasks, but heart 
could not grow cold to those who lived in its tender 
depths, even when death touched it. 

“ My faithful wife, my little girls, — they have not 
forsaken me, they are mine by ties that none can break. 
What right have I to leave them alone ? What right 
to escape from the burden and the sorrow I have helped 
to bring ? This duty remains to me, and I must do it 
manfully. For their sakes, the world will forgive me 
in time ; for their sakes, God will sustain me now.” 

Too feeble to rise, Abel groped for the food that 
always lay within his reach, and in the darkness and 
solitude of that memorable night ate and drank what 
was to him the bread and wine of a new communion, a 
new dedication of heart and life to the duties that were 
left him when the dreams fled. 

In the early dawn, when that sad wife crept fearfully 
to see what change had come to the patient face on the 
pillow, she found it smiling at her, saw a wasted hand 
outstretched to her, and heard a feeble voice cry 
bravely, “Hope!” 

What passed in that little room is not to be recorded 
except in the hearts of those who sufiered and endured 
much for love’s sake. Enough for us to know that soon 
the wan shadow of a man came forth, leaning on the arm 
that never failed him, to be welcomed and cherished by 
the children, who never forgot the experiences of that 
time. 

“ Hope ” was the watchword now ; and, while the last 
logs blazed on the hearth, the last bread and apples cov- 
ered the table, the new commander, with recovered 
courage, said to her husband, — 


LofC. 


100 


TBANSCENDENTAL WILD OATS- 


“ Leave all to God — and me. He has done his part • 
now I will do mine.” 

“ But we have no money, dear.” 

“Yes, we have. I sold all we could spare, and have 
enough to take us away from this snowbank.” 

“ Where can we go ? ” 

“ I have engaged four rooms at our good neighbor, 
Lovejoy’s. There we can live cheaply till spring. Then 
for new plans and a home of our own, please God.” 

“ But, Hope, your little store won’t last long, and we 
have no friends. ” 

“ I can sew and you can chop wood. Lovejoy offers 
you the same pay as he gives his other men ; my old 
friend, Mrs. Truman, will send me all the work I want ; 
and my blessed brother stands by us to the end. Cheer 
up, dear heart, for while there is work and love in the 
world we shall not suffer.” 

“ And while I have my good angel Hope, I shall not 
despair, even if I wait another thirty years before I step 
beyond the circle of the sacred little world in which I 
still have a place to fill.” 

So one bleak December day, with their few possessions 
piled on an ox-sled, the rosy children perched atop, and 
the parents trudging arm in arm behind, the exiles left 
their Eden and faced the world again. 

“Ah, me! my happy dream. How much I leave 
behind that never can be mine again,” said Abel, looking 
back at the lost Paradise, lying white and chill in its 
shroud of snow. 

“ Yes, dear ; but how much we bring away,” answered 
brave-hearted Hope, glancing from husband to children. 

“ Poor Fruitlands I The name was as great a failure 


TRANSCENDENTAL WILD OATS. 


101 


as the rest ! ” continued Abel, with a sigh, as a frost- 
bitten apple fell from a leafless bough at his feet. 

But the sigh changed to a smile as his wife added, in 
a half-tender, half-satirical tone, — 

“Don’t you think Apple Slump would be a bettei 
name for it, dear ? ” 


THE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY. 


“ TT THAT shall we do about Rose? We have tried 

V V Saratoga, and that failed to cheer her up ; we 
tried the sea-shore, and that failed ; now we have tried 
the mountains, and they are going to fail, like the rest. 
See if your woman’s wit can’t devise something to help 
the child, Milly.” 

“ Time and tenderness will work the cure ; and she 
will be all the better for this experience, I hope.” 

“ So do I. But I don’t pretend to understand these 
nervous ailments; so, if air, exercise, and change of 
scene don’t cure the vapors, I give it up. Girls didn’t 
have such worries in my day.” 

And the old gentleman shook his head, as if modern 
ills perplexed him very much. 

But Milly smiled the slow, wise smile of one who 
had learned much from experience; among other 
things, the wisdom of leaving certain troubles to cure 
themselves. 

“ Has the child expressed a wish for any thing ? If 

>, out with it, and she shall be gratified, if it can be 
done,” began Uncle Ben, after a moment of silence, as 
they sat watching the moonlight, that glorified the 
summer night. 

“ The last wish is one that we can easily gratify, if 
you don’t mind the fatigue. The restless spirit that 


THE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY. 103 


possesses her keeps suggesting new things. Much exer- 
cise does her good, and is an excellent way to work off 
this unrest. She likes to tire herself out ; for then she 
sleeps, poor dear.” 

“ W ell, well, what does the poor dear want to do ? ” 
asked Uncle Ben, quickly. 

“ She said to-day that, instead of going off on excur- 
sions, as we have been doing, she would like to stroll 
away some pleasant morning, and follow the road 
wherever it led, finding and enjoying any little advent- 
ures that might come along, — as Richter’s heroes do.” 

Yes, I see : white butterflies, morning red, disguised 
counts, philosoiDhic plowmen, and all the rest of the 
romantic rubbish. Bless the child, does she expect to 
find things of that sort anywhere out of a German 
novel?” 

“Plenty of butterflies and morning-glories, uncle, 
and a girl’s imagination will supply the romance. Per- 
haps we can get up some little surprise to add flavor to 
our day’s adv-entures,” said Milly, who rather favored 
the plan, for much romance still lay hidden in that quiet 
heart of hers. 

“Where shall we go? What shall we do ? I don’t 
know how this sort of thing is managed.” 

“ Do nothing but follow us. Let her choose her road ; 
and we will merely see that she has food and rest, pro- 
tection, and as much pleasure as we can make for her 
out of such simple materials. Having her own way 
will gratify her, and a day in the open air do her good. 
Shall we try it, sir?” 

“ With all my heart, if the fancy lasts till morning. 
I’ll have some lunch put up, and order Jim to dawdU 


104 THE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAT 


after us with the wagon full of waterproof^, and so on, 
in case we break down. I rather like the idea, now I 
fairly take it in.” And Uncle Ben quite beamed with 
interest and good-will ; for a kinder-hearted man never 
breathed, and, in spite of his fifty years, he was as fond 
of adventures as any boy. 

“ Then, as we must be up and away very eany, I’ll 
say good-night, sir,” and Milly rose to go, looking well 
satisfied with the success of her suggestion. 

“Good-night, my dear,” and Uncle Ben rose also, 
flung away his cigar, and offered his hand with the old- 
fashioned courtesy which he always showed his niece’s 
friend ; for Milly only called him uncle to please him. 

“ You are sure this wild whim won’t be too much foi 
you? You are such a self-sacrificing soul. I’m afraid 
my girl will wear you out,” he said, looking down at 
her with a fatherly expression, very becoming to hia 
comely countenance. 

“ Not a bit, sir. I like it, and would gladly do any 
thing to please and help Rose. I’m very fond of her, 
and love to pet and care for her. I’m so alone in the 
world I cling to my few friends, and feel as if I couldn’t 
do enough for them.” 

Something in Milly’s face made Uncle Ben hold her 
hand close in both of his a moment, and look as if he 
was going to stoop and kiss her. But he ,peemed to 
think better of it; for he only shook the soft hand 
warmly, and said, in his hearty tone, — 

“ I don’t know what we should do without you, my 
dear. You are one of the women born to help and 
comfort others, and ask no revi'ard but love.” 

As the first streaks of dawn touched the eastern sky 


THE BOMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY. 105 


three faces appeared at three different windows of the 
great hotel. One was a masculine face, a ruddy, benevo- 
lent countenance, with kind eyes, grayish hair cheer- 
fully erect upon the head, and a smile on the lips, that 
Boftly whistled the old air of 

“ A southerly wind and a cloudy sky 
Proclaim a hunting morning.” 

The second was one of those serene, sweet faces, 
possessing an attraction more subtle than beauty ; eyes 
always full of silent sympathy, a little wistful some- 
times, but never sad, and an expression of peace and 
patience that told of battles fought and victories won. 
A happy, helpful soul shone from that face and made it 
lovely, though its first bloom was past and a solitary 
future lay before it. 

The third was rich in the charms that youth and 
health lend any countenance. But, in spite of the 
bloom on the rounded cheeks, the freshness of the lips, 
and the soft beauty of the eyes, the face that looked out 
from the bonny brown hair, blowing in the wind, was 
not a happy one. Discontent, unrest, and a secret hun- 
ger seemed to sadden and sharpen all its outlines, mak- 
ing it pathetic to those who could read the language of 
an unsatisfied heart. 

Poor little Rose was waiting, as all women must 
wait, for the good gift that brightens life ; and, while 
she waited, patience and passion were having a hard 
fight in the proud silence of her heart. 

“It will be a capital day, girls,” called Uncle Ben, 
in his cheery voice. 

“ I thought it would be,” answered Milly, nodding 
back, with a smile. 


106 TEE ROMANCE OF A RUMMER DAT, 


“ I know it will pour before night,” added Rose, who 
saw every thing just then through blue spectacles. 

“ Breakfast is ready for us. Come on, girls, or you’ll 
miss your morning red,” called Uncle Ben, retiring, 
with a laugh. - 

“ I lost mine six months ago,” sighed Rose, as she 
listlessly gathered up the brown curls, that were once 
her pride. 

“ Hark ! hark ! the lark at Heaven’s gate sings," 
sounded from Milly’s room, in her blithe voice. 

“ Tiresome little bird ! Why don’t he stay in his 
nest and cheer his mate ? ” muttered Rose, refusing to 
be cheered. 

“Now lead on, my dear, we’ll follow till we drop,’* 
said Uncle Ben, stoutly, as they stood on the piazza, 
half an hour later, with no one but a sleepy waiter to 
watch and wonder at the early start. 

“ I have always wondered where that lonely road 
went to, and now I shall find out,” answered Rose, with 
an imperious little gesture, as she led the way. The 
others followed so slowly that she felt alone, and 
enjoyed it, in spite of herself. 

It was the most eloquent hour of the day, for all was 
beautiful, all was fresh; nothing was out of order, 
nothing disturbed eye or ear, and the world seemed to 
welcome her with its morning face. The road wound 
between forests full of the green gloom no artist can 
ever paint. Pines whispered, birches quivered, maples 
dropped grateful shadows, and a little river foamed and 
sparkled by, carrying its melodious message from the 
mountains to the sea. Glimpses of hoary peaks broke 
on her now and then, dappled with shadows or half- 


THE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY. 107 


veiled in mists, floating and fading like incense from 
altars fit for a cathedral not built with hands. Leafy 
vistas opened temptingly on either side, berries blushed 
ripely in the grass, cow-bells tinkled pleasantly along 
the hillsides, and that busy little farmer, the “ Peabody 
bird,” cried from tree to tree, “ Sow your wheat, Pea- 
body ! Peabody ! Peabody ! ” with such musical energy 
one ceased to wonder that fields were wrested from 
the forest, to wave like green and golden breast-knots 
on the bosoms of the hills. 

The fresh beauty and the healthful peace of the hour 
refreshed the girl like dew. The human rose lifted up 
her drooping head and smiled back at the blithe sun- 
shine, as if she found the world a pleasant place, in 
spite of her own thorns. Presently a yellow butterfly 
came wandering by ; and she watched it as she walked, 
•pleasing herself with the girlish fancy that it was a 
symbol of herself. 

At first it fluttered idly fi-om side to side, now light- 
ing on a purple thistle-top, then away to swing on a 
dewy fern ; now vanishing among the low-hanging 
boughs overhead, then settling in the dust of the road, 
where a ray of light glorified its golden wings, unmind- 
ful of its lowly seat. 

“ Little Psyche is looking for her Cupid everywhere, 
as I have looked for mine. I wonder if she ever found 
and lost him, as I did ? If she does find him again. I’ll 
accept it as a good omen.” 

Full of this fancy. Rose walked quickly after her airy 
guide, leaving her comrades far behind. Some tender- 
hearted spirit surely led that butterfly, for it never 
wandered far away, but floated steadily before the girl, 


108 THE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY. 


till it came at last to a wild rose-bush, full of delicate 
blossoms. Above it a cloud of yellow butterflies were 
dancing in the sun ; and from among them one flew 
to meet and welcome the new-comer. Together they 
fluttered round the rosy flowers for a moment, then 
rose in graceful circles, till they vanished in the wood. 

Rose followed them with eyes that slowly dimmed 
with happy tears, for the innocent soul accepted the 
omen and believed it gratefully. 

“He will come,” she said softly to herself, as she 
fastened a knot of wild roses in her bosom and sat 
down to rest and wait. 

“ Tired out, little girl?” asked Uncle Ben, coming 
up at a great pace, rather amazed at this sudden burst 
of energy, but glad to see it. 

“ No, indeed ! It was lovely ! ” and Rose looked up 
with a brighter face than she had worn for weeks. 

“ Upon my word, I think we have hit upon the right 
thing at last,” said Uncle Ben, aside, to Milly. “ What 
have you been doing to get such a look as that?” he 
added aloud. 

“ Chasing butterflies,” was all the answer Rose gave ; 
for she could not tell the foolish little fancy that had 
comforted her so much. 

“ Then, my dear, I beg you will devote yourself to 
that amusement. I never heard it recommended, but 
it seems to be immensely beneficial ; so keep it up, 
Rosy, keep it up.” 

“ I will, sir,” and oii went Rose, as if in search of 
another one. 

For an hour or two she strolled along the woody 
road, gathering red raspberries, with the dew still on 


THE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY. 109 


them, garlanding her hat with fragrant Linnaea wreaths, 
watching the brown brooks go singing away into the 
forest, and wishing the little wood creatures good-mor- 
row, as they went fearlessly to and fro, busy with their 
sylvan housekeeping. At every turn of the road Rose’s 
wistful eyes looked forward, as if hoping to see some 
much-desired figure approaching. At every sound of 
steps she lifted her head like a deer, listening and 
watching till the stranger had gone by; and down 
every green vista she sent longing looks, as if memory 
recalled happy hours in green nooks like those. 

Presently the road wound over a bridge, below which 
flowed a wide, smooth river, flecked with alternate sun 
and shadow. 

“ How beautiful it is ! I must float down this stream 
a little way. It is getting warm and I am tired, yet 
don’t want to stop or turn back yet,” said Rose ; add- 
ing, as her quick eye roved to and fro : “ I see a boat 
down there, and a lazy man reading. I’ll hire or bor- 
row it ; so come on.” 

Away she went into the meadow, and, accosting the 
countryman, who lay in the shade, she made her request. 

“ I get my livin’ in summer by rowin’ folks down to 
the Falls. It ain’t fur. Will you go. Miss ? ” he said, 
smiling all over his brown face, as he regarded the 
pretty vision that so suddenly appeared beside him. 

Rose accepted the proposition at once; but halt 
regretted it a minute after, for, as the man rose, she 
saw that he had a wooden leg. 

“ I’m afraid we shall be too heavy a load for you,” she 
began, as he stumped about, preparing his boat. 

The young fellow laughed and squared his broad 


110 TEE BOMANCE OF A SUMMER DAT. 


shoulders, with a quick look, that thanked her for the 
pitiful glance she gave him, as he answered, in a blufii 
good-natured tone, — 

“ Don’t be afraid. I could row a dozen of you. I 
look rather the worse for wear; but my old mother 
thinks I’m about the strongest man in the State. Now, 
then, give us your hand. Miss, and there you are.” 

With that he helped her in. The others obediently 
followed their capricious leader, and in a moment they 
were floating down the river, with a fresh wind cooling 
their hot faces. 

“You have been in the aniiy, I take it ?” began 
Une’e Ben, in his social way, as he watched the man 
pulling with long, easy strokes. 

“Pretty nigh through the war, sir,” with a nod and a 
glance at the wooden leg. 

Uncle Ben lifted his hat, and Rose turned with a 
sudden interest from the far-off bend of the river to the 
honest face before her. 

“ Oh ! tell us about it. I love to hear brave men fight 
their battles over,” she cried, with a look half pleading, 
half commanding, and wholly charming. 

“ Sho ! It ain’t much to tell. No more than the rest 
of ’em ; not so much as some. I done my best, lost my 
leg, got a few bullets here and there, and ain’t much use 
jiny way now.” 

A shadow passed over the man’s face as he spoke ; 
and well it might, for it was hard to be disabled at 
twenty-five with a long life of partial helplessness before 
him. Uncle Ben, who was steering, forgot his duty in 
his sympathy, and regarded the wooden leg with silent 
interest. 


THE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAT. Ill 


Milly showed hers by keeping the mosquitoes off him 
by gently waving a green bough, as she sat behind him. 
But Rose’s soft eyes shone upon him full of persuasive 
interest, and a new tone of respect was in her voice a* 
she said, with a martial salute, — 

“ Please tell about your last battle. I had a cousin 
in the war, and feel as if every soldier was my friend and 
comrade since then.” 

“ Thanky, Miss. I’ll tell you that with pleasure, 
though it ain’t much, any way.” And, pushing back 
his hat, the young man rested on his oars, as he rapidly 
told his little tale. 

“My last battle was ,” naming one of the latest 

and bloodiest of the war. “We were doing our best, 
when there came a shell and scattered half-a-dozen of us 
pretty lively. I was knocked flat. But I didn’t feel 
hurt, only mad, and jumped up to hit ’em agin ; but just 
dropped, with an awful -wrench, and the feeling that 
both my legs was gone.” 

“ Did no one stop to help you ? ’’cried Rose. 

“ Too busy for that. Miss. The boys can’t stop to 
pick up their mates when there are Rebs ahead to be 
knocked down. I knew there was no more fighting for 
me ; and just laid still, with the balls singing round me, 
and wondering where they’d hit next.” 

“ How did you feel ? ” questioned the girl, eagerly. 

“Dreadful busy at first; for every thing I’d ever said, 
seen, or done,, seemed to go spinning through my head, 
till I got so dizzy trying to keep my wits stiddy that 
I lost ’em altogether. I didn’t find ’em again till some 
one laid hold of me. Two of our boys were luggin’ me 
along back ; l)ut they had to dodge behind walls and 


112 THE BOMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY, 


cut up and down, for the scrimmage was going on all 
round us. One of the fellers was hit in the shoulder and 
the other in the face, but not bad ; and they managed to 
get me into a sort of a ravine, out of danger. There I 
begged ’em to leave me. I thought I was bleeding to 
death rapid, and just wanted to die in peace.” 

“ But they didn’t leave you ? ” And Rose’s face was 
all alive with interest now. 

“ Guess they didn’t,” answered the man, giving a 
stroke or two, and looking as if he found it pleasant to 
tell his story to so winsome a listener. “Just as they 
were at their wit’s end what to do with me, we come 
upon a young surgeon, lurking there to watch the fight 
or to hide, — don’t know which. There he was any way, 
looking scared half to death. Tom Hunt, my mate, made 
him stop and look at me. My leg was smashed, and 
ought to come off right away, he said. ‘ Do it, then I ’ 
says Tom. He was one of your rough-and-readys, 
Tom was ; but at heart as kind as a — well, as a 
woman.” 

And the boatman gave a smile and a nod at the one 
opposite him. 

“ Thanks ; but do tell on. It is so interesting.” 

And Rose let all her flowers stray down into the 
bottom of the boat, as she clasped her hands and leaned 
forward to listen. 

“Don’t know as I’d better tell this part. It ain’t 
pleasant,” began the man. 

“You must. I want it all. Dreadful things do me 
good, and other people’s suflerings teach me how to bear 
my own,” said Rose, in her imperious way. 

“ You don’t look as if you ought to have any.” 


THE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAT. 113 


And the man’s eyes rested on the delicate face oppo- 
site, full of a pleasant blending of admiration, pity, andi 
protection. 

“ I have ; but not like yours. Go on, please.” 

“Well, if you say so, here goes. The surgeon was 
worried, and said he couldn’t do nothing, — hadn’t got 
nis instruments, and so on. ‘ Yes, you have. Out with 
em,’ says Tom, rapping on a case he sees in the chap’s 
breast-pocket. ‘ Can’t do it without bandages,’ he says 
next. ‘ Here they are, and more where they came 
from,’ says Tom ; and off came his shirt-sleeves, and was 
stripped up in a jiffy. ‘ I must have help,’ says that con- 
founded surgeon, dawdling round, and me groaning my 
life out at his feet. ‘Here’s help, — lots of it,’ says 
Tom, taking my head on his arm ; while Parkes tied 
up his wounded face and stood ready to lend a hand. 
Seeing no way out of it, the surgeon went to work. 
Good Lord, but that was awful ! ” 

The mere memory of it made the speaker shut his 
eyes with a shiver, as if he felt again the sharp agony 
of shattered bones, rent flesh, and pitiless knife. 

“Never mind that. Tell how you got comfortable 
again,” said Milly, shaking her head at Rose. 

“ I wasn’t comfortable for three months, ma’am. 
Don’t mind telling about it, ’cause Tom done so well, 
and Pm proud of him,” said the rower, with kindling eyes. 
“Things of that sort are hard enough done well, with 
chloroform and every thing handy. But laying on the 
bare ground, with nothing right, and a scared boy of a 
surgeon hacking away at you, it’s torment and no mis- 
take. I never could have stood it, if it hadn’t been for 
Tom. He held me close and as steady as a rock; but he 

8 


114 THE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAT, 


cried like a baby the whole time, and that did me good. 
Don’t know why ; but it did. As for Parkes, he gave 
out at once and went off for help. I’ll never forget 
that place, if I live to be a hundred. Seems as if 1 
could see the ver}^ grass I tore up ; the muddy brook 
they laid me by ; the steep bank, with Parkes creejnng 
up ; Tom’s face, wet and white, but so full of pity ; the 
surgeon, with his red hands ; and all the while such a 
roar of guns I could hardly hear myself groaning for 
some one to shoot me and put me out of my misery.” 

“How did you get to the hospital?” asked Uncle 
Ben, anxious to get over this part of the story, for Rose 
was now as pale as if she actually saw the scene de- 
scribed. 

“ Don’t know, sir. There come a time when I couldn’t 
bear any more, and what happened then I’ve never been 
very clear about. I didn’t know much for a day or two ; 
then I was brought round by being put in a transport. 
I was packed with a lot of poor fellows, and was begin- 
ning to wish I’d stayed queer, till I heard Tom’s voice 
saving, ‘Never mind, boys; put me down anywheres, 
and tend to the others. I can wait.’ That set me up. 
I sung out, and they stowed him alongside. It was so 
dark down there I could hardly see his face ; but his 
voice and ways were just as hearty and comforting as 
ever, and he kept up my spirits wonderful that day. I 
was pretty weak, and kept dozing off ; but whenevc r I 
woke I felt for Tom, and he was always there. He 
told me, when Parkes came with help, he saw me ofij 
and then went back for another go at the Rebs ; but got 
a ball in the breast, and was in rather a bad way, he 
guessed. He couldn’t lay down ; but sat by me, lean- 


TEE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAT. 115 


in" back, with his hand on -my pillow, where I could 
find it easy. He talked to me all he could, till his 
voice give out ; for he got very weak, and there was a 
dreadful groaning all around us.” 

“ I know, I know. I went aboard one of those tran- 
sports to help ; but couldn’t stay, it was so terrible,” 
said Uncle Ben, with a groan at the mere memory 
of it. 

“ That was a long day, and I thought it was my last; 
for when night came I felt so gone I reckoned I was 
’most over Jordan. I gave my watch to Tom as a 
keepsake, and told him to say good-by to the boys 
for me. I hadn’t any folks of my own, so it wasn’t hard 
to go. Tom had a sweetheart, an old mother, and lots 
of friends ; but he didn’t repine a word, — only said ; 
‘If you do pull through, Joel, just tell mother I done 
my best, and give Hetty my love.’ I promised, and 
dropped asleep, holding on to Tom as if he was my 
sheet-ancnor. So he was ; but I can’t tell all he don€4 
for me in different ways.” 

For a minute Joel rowed in silence, and no one asked 

question. Then he pushed up his old hat again, and 
went on, as if anxious to be done. 

“ Soon’s ever I woke, next morning, I looked round 
to thank Tom, for his blanket was over me. He was 
sitting as I left him, his hand on my pillow, his face 
tow-ard me, so quiet and happy-looking I couldn’t 
believe he was gone. But he was, and I have had no 
aiate since.” 

“Where did he live?” asked Rose, as softly as if 
speaking of one she had known and loved. 

“ Over yonder.” And Joel pointed to a little brow'D 
house on the hillside. 


116 THE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY, 


“ Are his mother and Hetty there ? ” 

“ Hetty married a number of years ago ; but the old 
lady is there.” 

“ And you are visiting her ? ” 

“I live with her. You see Tom was all she had; 
and, when Hetty left, it was only natural that 1 tried 
to take Tom’s place. Can’t never fill it of course ; but 
I do what I can, and she’s comfortable.” 

“ So she is the ‘ old mother ’ who thinks so much 
of you? Well she may,” said Rose, giving him her 
brightest smile. 

“Yes, she’s all I’ve got now. Couldn’t do no less, 
could I, seein’ how much Tom done for me ? ” answered 
the man, with a momentary quiver of emotion in his 
rough voice. 

“You’re a trump!” said Uncle Ben, emphatically. 

“Thanky, sir. Starboard, if you please. I don’t 
care to get into the rapids just here.” 

Joel seemed to dislike telling this part of the story; 
but the three listeners beamed upon him with such ap- 
proving faces that he took to his oars in self-defence, 
rowing with all his might, till the roar of the Fall was 
faintly heard. 

“Now, where shall I land you, sir?” 

“ Let us lunch on the island,” proposed Rose. 

“ I see a tent, and fancy some one is camping there,” 
said Milly. 

“ A lot of young fellows have been there this three 
days,” said Joel. 

“ Then we will go on, and take to the grove above 
the Fall,” ordered Uncle Ben. 

Alas! alas! for Rose. That decision delayed her 


THE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY. 117 


happiness a whole half day ; for on that island, luxuri- 
ously reading “ The Lotus Eaters,” as he lay in the 
long grass, was the Gabriel this modern Evangeline 
was waiting for. She never dreamed he was so near. 
And the brown-bearded student never lifted up his 
head as the boat floated by, carrying the lady of his 
love. 

“ 1 want to give him more than his fare. So I shall 
slip my cigar-case into the pocket of this coat,” whis- 
pered Uncle Ben, as Joel was busy drawing up the 
boat and getting a stone or two to facilitate the ladies’ 
landing dryshod. 

“ I shall leave my book for him. He was poring over 
an old newspaper, as if hungry for reading. The dash 
and daring of ‘John Brent’ will charm him; and the 
sketch of Winthrop’s life in the beginning will add to 
its value, I know.” And, hastily scribbling his name 
in it. Rose slipped the book under the coat. 

But Milly, seeing how old that coat was, guessed 
that Joel gave his earnings to the old woman to whom 
he dutifully played a son’s part. Writing on a card 
“ For Tom’s mother and mate,” she folded a five-dollar 
bill round it, fastened it with a little pearl cross from 
her own throat, and laid it in the book. 

Then all landed, and, with a cordial hand-shake and 
man^ thanks, left Joel to row away, quite unconscious 
that he was a hero in the pretty girl’s eyes, till he 
found the tokens of his passengers’ regard and respect. 

“How that is an adventure after my own heait,” 
said Rose, as they rustled along the grassy path toward 
the misty cloud that hung over the Fall. 

“ We have nothing but sandwiches and sherry foi 


118 TEE nOMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY. 


lunch, unless we find a house and add to our stores,” 
said Uncle Ben, beginning to feel hungry and wonder- 
ing how far his provisions would go. 

“ There is a little girl picking berries. Call her and 
buy some,” suggested Milly, who had her doubts about 
the state of the sandwiches, as the knapsack had been 
sat upon. 

A shout from Uncle Ben caused the little girl to ap- 
proach, — timidly at first ; but, being joined by a boy, 
her courage rose, and when the idea of a “ trade ” was 
impressed upon their minds fear was forgotten and the 
Yankee appeared. 

“ How much a quart ? ” 

“Eight cents, sir.” 

“ But that birch-bark thing is not full.” 

“ How it is,” and the barefooted, tow-headed lad 
filled the girl’s pannier from his own. 

“ Here’s chivalry for you,” said Rose, watching the 
children with interest ; for the girl was pretty, and the 
boy evidently not her brother. 

“You don’t pick as fast as she does,” said Milly, 
while Uncle Ben hunted up the money. 

“ He’s done his stent, and was helpin’ me. I’ll have 
to pick a lot before I git my quarter,” said the girl, 
defending her friend, in spite of her bashfulness 

“ Must you each make a quarter ? ” 

“ Yes’m. We don’t have to; but we wan ter, so we 
can go to the circus that’s cornin’ to-morrer. He made 
his’n ketchin’ trout ; so he’s helpin’ me,” explained the 
girl. 

“Where do you get your trout?” asked Uncle Ben, 
sniffing the air, as if he already smelt them cooking. 


TEE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY. 119 


In the brook. I ain’t sold mine yet. Want to buy 
’em ? Six big ones for a quarter,” said the boy, seeing 
hunger in the good man’s eye and many greenbacks in 
the corpulent purse. 

“Yes, if you’ll clean them.” 

“ But, Uncle, we can’t cook them,” began Milly. 

“Y can. Let an old campaigner alone for getting 
ap a gipsy lunch. You wanted a surprise ; so I’ll give 
you one. Now, Billy, bring on your fish.” 

“My name is Daniel Webster Butterfield Brown,” 
returned the boy, with dignity ; adding, with a comical 
change of tone : “ Them fish is cleaned, or you’d a got 
’em cheaper.” 

“ V ery well. Hand them over.” 

Ofi* ran the boy to the brook ; and the girl was shyly 
following, when Rose said, — 

“ Will you sell me that pretty bark pannier of yours ? 
I want one for my flowers.” 

“No’m. I guess I’d ruther not.” 

“ I’ll give you a quarter for it. Then you can go to 
the circus without working any more.” 

“ Dan made this for me, real careful ; and I couldn’t 
sell it, no way. He wouldn’t go without me. And 
I’ll pick stiddy all day, and git my money. See if I 
don’t ! ” answered the child, hugging her treasure close. 

“Here’s your romance in the bud,” said Uncle Ben, 
trying not to laugh. 

“ It’s beautiful ! ” said Rose, with energy. “ What is 
your name, dear ? ” 

“ Gusty Medders, please ’m.” 

“Dan isn’t your brother?” 

“No’m. He lives to the poor-house. But he’s real 


120 THE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY. 


Braart, and we play together. And him and me is 
going to the show. He always takes care o’ me ; and 
my mother thinks a sight of him, and so do I,” re- 
turned the child, in a burst of confidence. 

“ Happy little Gusty ! ” said Rose, to herself. 

“Thrice happy Dan,” added Uncle Ben, producing 
the fat pocket-book again, with the evident intention 
of bestowing a fortune on the small couple. 

“Don’t spoil the pretty little romance. Don’t rob 
it of its self-sacrifice and simplicity. Let them earn 
their money. Then they will enjoy it more,” cried 
Milly, holding his hand. 

Uncle Ben submitted, and paid Dan his price, with- 
out adding a penny. 

“ The lady wanted to buy my basket. But I didn’t 
sell it, Danny ; ’cause you give it as a keepsake,” they 
heard Gusty say, as the children turned away. 

“ Good for you, Gus ; but I’ll sell mine.” And back 
came Dan, to dispose of his for the desired quarter. 
“Now we’re fixed comj^lete, and you needn’t pick a 
darned berry. We’ve got fifty cents for the show, and 
eight over for peanuts and candy. Won’t we have a 
good time, though ? ” 

With which joyful remark Dan turned a somersault, 
and then the little pair vanished in the wood, 'with 
shining faces, to revel in visions of the splendors to 
come. 

“Now you have got your elephant, what are you 
going to do with him ? ” asked Rose, as they went on 
again, — she with her pretty basket of fruit, and he 
with a string of fish wrapped in leaves. 

“ Come on a bit, and you will see.” 


THE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY. 121 


Uncle Ben led them to the shade of a great maple, 
on a green slope, in sight of the noisy Fall, leaping 
from rock to rock, till the stream went singing away 
through wide, green meadows below. 

“Now rest and cool yourselves, while I cook the 
dinner.” And away bustled the good man, on hospi- 
table thoughts intent. 

Plenty of dry drift-wood lay about the watercourse, 
and soon a brisk fire burned on the rocks not far away. 
Shingles for plates, with pointed sticks for forks, seemed 
quite in keeping with the rustic feast ; and when the 
edibles were set forth on leaves the girls were charmed, 
and praised the trout, as it came hot from the coals, till 
even the flushed cook was satisfied. 

“ I’d like to live so always. It is so interesting to 
pick up your food as you go, and eat it when and where 
you like. I think I could be quite happy leading a 
wild life like this,” said Rose, as she lay in the grass, 
dropping berries one by one into her mouth. 

“You would soon tire of it. Miss Caprice; but, if it 
a.muses for a single day, I am satisfied,” answered 
Milly, with her motherly smile, as she stroked the 
bright head in her lap, feeling sure that happiness was 
in store for so much youth and beauty. 

Lulled by the soft caress, and the song of the water- 
fall. Rose fell asleep, and for an hour dreamed bliss- 
fully, while the maple dropped its shadows on her 
placid face, and all the wholesome influences of the 
place worked their healing spell on soul and body. 

“A thunder-shower is rolling up in the west, my 
dears. We must be getting toward some shelter, un- 
less we are to take a drenching as part of the day’i 


122 TEE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAT, 


pleasure,” said Uncle Ben, rising briskly after his own 
nan. 

“ I see no house anywhere ; but a big barn down in 
the intervale, and a crowd of people getting in their . 
hay. Let us make for that, and lie on the sweet hay- 
cocks till the shower comes,” proposed Milly. 

As they went down the steep pa^,h. Rose began to 
sing ; and at the unwonted sound her uncle and friend 
exchanged glances of satisfaction, for not a note had 
she sung for weeks. A happy mood seemed to have 
taken possession of her; and when they reached the 
intervale she won the old fanner’s heart by catching up 
a rake and working stoutly, till the first heavy drops 
began to fall. Then she rode up to the barn on a fra- 
grant load, and was so charmed with the place that she 
declined his invitation to “ Come up and see the old 
woman and set a spell,” and declared that she depended 
on enjoying the thunder-storm where she was. 

The farmer and his men went their way, and Rose 
was just settling herself at the upper window, where 
the hay had been pitched in, when a long line of gay 
red vans came rattling down the road, followed by 
carriages and gilded cars, elephants and camels, fine 
horses and frisky ponies, all more or less excited by the 
coming storm. 

“ It’s the circus ! How I wish Gusty and Dan could 
see it ! ” cried Rose, clapping her hands like a child. 

I do believe they are coming here. Now that will be 
charming, and the best adventure of all,” she added, as 
a carriage and several vans turned into the grassy road 
leading to the barn. 

A pair of elephants slowly lumbered after, with a 


TEE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY. 123 


camel or two, and the finest gilded car. The rest rat- 
tled on, hoping to reach the town in time. In a moment 
the quiet country scene was changed, and the big bam 
transformed into a theatrical Babel. 

Our party retreated to a loft, and sat locking down 
on the show, enjoying it heartily ; especially Rose, who 
felt as if suddenly translated into an Eastern tale. 
The storm came on dark and wild, rain poured, thunder 
rolled, and lightning gave lurid glimpses of the strange 
surroundings. 

The elephants placidly ate hay ; the tired camels lay 
down with gusty sighs and queer groanings; but the 
lion in his lonely van roared royally at intervals, and 
the tigers snarled and tore about their cage like restless 
demons. 

The great golden car lit up the gloom ; and in it sat, 
or lay, the occupants of the carriage, — a big, dark man, 
and a little blonde creature, with a pretty, tired, painted 
face. Rose soon found herself curiously attracted to 
this pair, for they were evidently lovers ; and there was 
a certain frank, melodramatic air about them that took 
her fancy. The dark man lay on the red cushion, 
smoking tranquilly ; while the girl hovered about him 
with all manner of small attentions. Presently he 
seemed to drop asleep, undisturbed by the thunder 
without or the clamor within. Then the small creature 
smoothed her gay yet shabby dress, and braided up hei 
hair, as composedly as if in her own room. That done, 
she looked about her for amusement; and, spying 
Rose’s interested face peering down at her from above, 
she nodded, and called out, in a saucy voice, — 

“ How do you like us ? Shall I come up and make 
you a visit ? ” 


124 THE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAT, 


“ I beg you will,” answered Rose, in spite of a warn 
ing touch from Milly. 

Up sprang the little circus-rider ; and, disdaining the 
ladder, skipped to the gilded dome of the car, and then 
took a daring leap on to the loft, landing near them^ 
with a laugh. 

For a minute she eyed the others with a curious mix- 
ture of coolness and hesitation, as if it suddenly struck 
her that they were not country girls, to be dazzled by 
her audacity. Milly saw and understood the pause, 
liked the girl for it, and said, as courteously as if to a 
lady in her own parlor, — 

There is plenty of room for us all. Pray sit down 
and enjoy this fine view with us. The storm is passing 
over now, and it will soon be fair.” 

“Thank you!” said the girl, dropping on to the hay, 
with her bold, bright eyes, full of admiration, fixed on 
Rose, who smiled, and said quickly, — 

“ You belong to the troop, I suppose?” 

“ Firso lady rider,” replied the girl, with a toss of the 
head. 

“ It must be very romantic to lead such a life, and go 
driving from place to place in this way.” 

“ It’s a hard life, any way ; and not much romance, 
you’d better believe.” 

“Not even for yow.” And Rose glanced at the 
sleeper below. 

The girl smiled. Her bold eyes turned to him with 
a softened look, and the natural color deepened on her 
painted cheeks, as she said, in a lower voice, — 

“Yes, Joe does make a difference for me. We’ve 
only been married three weeks.” 

“ What does he (i> ’ ” 


THE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY. 126 


He’s the lion-tamer.” And the girl gave them a 
glance of wifely pride in her husband’s prowess. 

“ Oh ! tell me about it 1 ” cried Rose. “ I admire 
courage so much.” 

“You ought to see him do Daniel in the lion’s den, 
then. Or his great tiger act, where he piles four of ’em 
ap, and lays on top. It’s just splendid!” 

“But very dangerous! Does he never fear them? 
And do they never hurt him ? ” 

“He don’t fear any thing in the world,” said the 
girl, entirely forgetting herself, in enthusiastic praise 
of her husband. 

“Caesar, the lion, loves him like a dog; and Joe 
trusts him as he does me. But them tigers are deceit- 
ful beasts, and can’t be trusted a minute. Judas went 
at Joe once, and half killed him. He seems tame 
enough now ; but I hate him, for they say that if a 
tiger once tastes a man’s blood he’s sure to kill him 
sooner or later. So I don’t have a minute’s peace when 
Joe is in that cage.” And the little woman shivered 
with very genuine anxiety at the thought of her hus- 
band’s danger. 

“And, knowing this, he runs the risk every day! 
What a life!” said Uncle Ben, looking down at the 
unconscious Joe. 

“A brave life. Uncle, and full of excitement. The 
minutes in that cage must be splendid. I wish I could 
see him once ! ” cried Rose, with the restless look in her 
eyes again. 

“ He’d do it, if he had his things here. He 11 do any 
thing I ask him,” said the girl, evidently proud of hei 
power over the lion-tamer. 


126 TEE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY. 


“We will come and see him to-morrow. Can’t you 
tell us how he manages to subdue these wild animals? 
I always wanted to know about it,” said Rose, wondering 
if she could not get some hints for the taming of men. 

“Joe’ll tell you.” And, calling from her perch, the 
girl waked the sleeper and ordered him up to amuse 
the gentle-folk. 

The big man came, with comical meekness; and, 
lounging on the hay, readily answered the questions 
showered upon him. Rose enjoyed that hour intensely; 
for the tales Joe told were full of wild adventure, hair- 
breadth escapes, and feats of strength or skill, that 
kept his listeners half breathless with interest. The 
presence of the little wife gave an added charm to 
these stories ; for it was evident that the tamer of lions 
was completely subdued by the small woman. His 
brown, scarred face softened as it turned to her. 
While he talked, the strong hands that clutched lions 
by the throat were softly stroking the blonde head at 
his side ; and, when he told of the fierce struggle with 
Judas, he grew so eloquent over the account of Kitty’s 
nursing him that it was plain to see he was prouder of 
the conquest of her girl’s heart than of his hard-won 
victory over the treacherous tiger. 

The man’s courage lent romance to his vulgar life, 
and his love ennobled his whole nature for a time. 
Kitty ate peanuts while he thrilled his hearers with his 
feats; but her face was so full of pride and affection 
all the while that no one minded what she did, and 
even Milly forgave the painted cheeks and cotton 
velvet dress for the sake of the womanly heart under- 
neath 


TEE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY. 127 


The storm passed, the circus people bestirred them- 
selves, and in a few minutes were on their way again. 
Joe and Kitty said “Good-by” as heartily as if that 
half-hour had made them friends ; and, packing them 
selves into the little carriage drawn by the calico 
tandem, dashed away as gayly as if their queer honey- 
moon journey had just begun. Like parts of a stage 
pageant, the gilded car, the elephants and camels, frisky 
ponies, and gay red vans vanished along the winding 
road, leaving the old barn to silence and the scandal- 
ized swallows twittering among the rafters. 

“ I feel as if I’d been to an Arabian Night’s enter- 
tainment,” said Rose, as they descended and turned 
toward home. 

“ It was very interesting, and I do hope that brave 
Joe won’t get eaten up by the tigers. What would 
poor Kitty do ? ” returned Milly, warmly. 

“ It would be sad and dreadful ; but she would have 
the comfort of knowing how much he loved her. Some 
women don’t even have that,” added Rose, under her 
breath. 

“A capital fellow and a nice little woman. We’ll 
go and see them to-morrow ; though I fancy I shall 
not like Mrs. Kitty half so well in gauze and spangles, 
jumping through hoops and over banners on horseback, 
as I did on the hayloft. And I shall be desperately 
anxious till Joe is safely out of the tiger’s cage,” said 
Uncle Ben, who had been as interested as a boy in the 
wild tales told them. 

For an hour they walked back along the river-side, 
enjoying the wood odors brought out by the shower, 
the glories of the sunset sky, and the lovely rainbow 


128 THE IWMANCE OF A BUMMER DAT. 


that arched overhead, — a bow of promise to those who 
seemed passing under it from the old to a new one, 
full of tender promise. 

“ I see a nice old woman in that kitchen, and I want 
to stop and ask for some new milk. Perhaps she will 
give us our supper, and then we can go on by moon- 
light,” said Rose, as they came to a weather-beaten 
farm-house, standing under an ancient elm, with its 
door hospitably open, and a grandmotherly figure going 
to and fro within. 

Rose’s request was most graciously received, for the 
old woman seemed to regard them as most welcome 
cheerers of her solitude, and bustled about with an 
infectious cordiality that set them at their ease directly. 

“Do tell! Caught in the shower? It come sr 
Buddin’, I mistrusted some folks would get a duckin’. 
You kin hev supper jest as wal as not. ’Tain’t a mite 
o’ trouble, ef you don’t mind plain vittles. Enos and 
me lives alone, and he ain’t no gret of an eater; but I 
allers catle’ate to hev a good store of pervision on hand 
this time a year, there’s such a sight of strangers round 
the mountains. The table’s all sot; and I’ll jest add a 
pinch of tea and a couple of pies, and there we be. 
Now draw right up, and do the best you kin.” 

The cheery old soul was so hospitable that her 
presence gave a grace to her homely table and added 
flavor to her plain fare. Uncle Ben’s eyes twinkled 
when he saw dainty Rose eating brown-bread and milk 
out of a yellow bowl, with the appetite of a dairy- 
maid ; and Milly rejoiced over the happy face opposite, 
wishing that it might always wear that self-forgetful 
look. 


TEE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY. 129 


Euos was a feeble, bed-ridden, old man, who lay in a 
email room opening from tlie kitchen. A fretful invalid 
he seemed to be, hard to suit and much given to com- 
plaint. But the tender old wife never lost patience 
with him; and it was beautiful to see how cheerfully 
ehe trotted to and fro, trying to gratify every whim, 
without a reproachful word or thought of weariness. 

After tea, as Rose wanted to wait till moonrise, 
Uncle Ben went in to chat with the invalid, while 
Milly insisted on wiping the cups for the old lady ; and 
Rose sat on the doorstep, listening to their chat, and 
watching twilight steal softly up the valley. Presently 
her attention was fixed by something the old lady said 
in answer to Milly’s praises of the quaint kitchen. 

“ Yes, dear. I’ve lived here all my days. Was born in 
that bed-room; and don’t ask no better than to die 
there when my time comes.” 

“Most people are not fortunate enough to keep their 
old home when they marry. It must be very dear to 
you, having spent both your maiden and married life 
here,” said Milly, interested in her hostess. 

“ Wal, you see my maiden life lasted sixty year; and 
my married life ain’t but jest begun,” answered the old 
lady, with a laugh as gay as a girl’s. 

Seeing curiosity in the quick glance Rose involun- 
tarily gave her, the chatty old soul went on, as if gossip 
was dear to her heart, and her late-coming happiness 
still so new that she loved to tell it. 

“I s’pose that sounds sing’lar to you young things; 
but, you see, though me and Enos was engaged at 
twenty or so, we warn’t married till two year ago. 
Things was dreadful con’try, and we kep a waitin’ and 

d 


130 THE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY. 


A waitin’, till I declare for’t I really did think I should 
die an old maid.” And she laughed again, as if her 
*3scape was the best joke in the world. 

“And you waited forty years?” cried Rose, with her 
great eyes full of wonder. 

“Yes, dear. I had other chances; but somehow they 
didn’t none of them suit, and the more unfort’nate 
Enos was the more I kinder held on to him. He was 
one of them that’s allers tryin’ new things, and didn’t 
never seem to make a fortin out of any on ’em. He 
kept a tryin’ because he had nothin’, and would’nt 
marry till he was wal off. My mother was dead, and 
left a family to be took care on. I was the oldest gal, 
and so I nat’rally kept house for father till he died, and 
the children grew up and married off. So I warn’t 
idle all them years, and got on first-rate, allers hopin’ 
Enos’s luck would turn. But it didn’t (them cups goes 
in the right-hand corner, dear) ; and so I waited and 
waited, and hoped and hoped.” 

“Oh! how could you? ” sighed Rose, from the soft 
gloom of the doorway. 

“ ’Pears to me strength is give us most wonderful to 
bear trials, if we take ’em meek. I used to think I 
couldn’t bear it no way when I was left here alone, 
while Enos was in Californy ; and I didn’t know for 
seven year whether he was dead or alive. His folks 
give him up ; but I never did, and kept on hopin’ and 
prayin’ for him till he come back.” 

“ How happy you were then 1 ” cried Rose, as if she 
could sympatlnze heartily with that joy. 

“ No, I warn’t, dear. That was the hardest part on’t ; 
for Enos was married to a poor, shiftless thing, that was 
a b\irden to him for ten vear.” 


THE ROMANCE VE A SUMMER DAY. 13l 


“ That was hard,” and Rose gave a groan, as if a new 
trouble had suddenly come upon her. 

“ I done my best for ’em, in their ups and downs, till 
they went West. Then I settled down to end my days 
here alone. My folks was all dead or fur away, and it 
was uncommon lonesome. But I kinder clung: to the 
Did place, and had it borne in upon me strong that Enos 
Would turn up agin in time. I wanted him to find me 
here, ready to give him a helpin’ hand whenever and 
however he come.” 

“ And he did, at last ? ” asked Rose, with a sympa- 
thetic quiver in her voice that went to the old woman’s 
heart. 

“Yes, my deary; he did come at last,” she said, in a 
voice full of a satisfaction that was almost solemn in its 
intensity. “ Ruther mor’n two years ago he knocked at 
that door, a poor, broken-down old man, without wife, 
or child, or money, or home, — nothin’ in the wide world 
but me. He didn’t think I’d take him in, he was so 
mis’able. But, Lord love him, what else had I been a 
waitin’ for them forty year ? It warn’t the Enos that 
I loved fust; but that didn’t matter one mite. And 
when he sat sobbin’ in that chair, and sayin’ he had no 
friend but me, why I just answered back : ‘ My home is 
your’n, Enos ; and I give it jest as hearty as I did when 
you fust pupposed, under the laylock bushes, in the back 
gardin. Rest here, my poor dear, and let Becky take 
care on you till she dies.’ ” 

“ So he stayed ? ” said Milly, with tears in her voice, 
for Rose’s head was down on her knees, so eloquent had 
been the pathos of that old voice, telling its little tale 
of faithful love. 


132 TEE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY, 


“ Certin. And we- was married, so no one need mak6 
no talk. Folks said it was a dreadful poor match, and 
took on about my doin’ on’t; for I’m wal off, and Enos 
hadn’t a cent. But we was satisfied, and I ain’t never 
repented of that day’s work; for he took to his bed 
soon after, and won’t quit it, the doctor says, till he’s 
took to his grave.” 

“You dear soul, I must kiss you for that lovely deed 
of yours, and thank you from my heart for this lesson 
in fidelity.” And, obeying an irresistible impulse, Rose 
threw her arms round the old lady’s neck, kissing the 
wrinkled cheek with real reverence and tenderness. 

“ Sakes alive ! W al, I never did see sech a soft- 
hearted little creter. Why, child, what I done warn’t 
nothin’ but a pleasure. We women are such queer 
things, we don’t care how long we wait, ef we only 
hev our way at last.” 

As she spoke, the old woman hugged the blooming 
girl with a motherly warmth, most sweet and comforta- 
ble to see ; yet the longing look, the lingering touch, 
betrayed how much the tender old heart would have 
loved to pillow there a child of its own. 

Just then Uncle Ben appeared, and the early moon 
peeped over the mountain-top, plainly hinting that it 
was time for the wanderers to turn homeward. Biddin<y 

o 

their hospitable hostess good night, they came again 
into the woody road, now haunted with soft shadows 
and silvery with falling dew. The brown brooks were 
singing lullabies, the pines whispering musically in the 
wind, the mellow moonlight was falling everywhere, 
and the world was full of the magical beauty of a mid 
Bummer’s night. 


TEE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY. 135 


“ Go on, please, and let me follow alone. I want to 
think over my pleasant day, and finish it with waking 
dreams, as I go through this enchanted wood,” said 
Rose, whose mind was full of sweet yet sober thoughts ; 
for she had gathered herbs of grace while carelessly 
pulling wayside flowers, and from the simple adventures 
of the day had unconsciously received lessons that never 
were forgotten. 

The other walked on, and the girl followed, living 
over again the happy winter during which she had 
learned to know and love the young neighbor who had 
become the hero of her dreams. She had felt sure he 
loved her, though the modest youth had never told het 
so, except with eloquent glances and tender devotion. 
She believed in him, loved him truly, and waited with 
maidenly patience to hear the words that would unseal 
her lips. They did not come, and he had left her with 
no hope but such as she could find in the lingering 
pressure of his hand and the warmly uttered “ I shall 
see you again.” 

Since then, no line, no word; and all through the 
lovely spring she had looked and waited for the brown- 
bearded student, — looked and waited in vain. Then 
unrest took possession of her, anxiety tormented her, 
and despair made her young face pathetic. Only the 
sad, simple old story, but as bitter to live through now 
as in poor Dido’s day; more bitter, perhaps, because 
we cannot erect funeral pyres and consume the body 
with a flame less fierce than that which burns away the 
soul unseen. 

Now in the silence of that summer night a blessed 
peace seemed to fall on the girl’s unquiet heart, as she 


134 THE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY. 


trod thoughtfully along the shadowy road. Courage 
and patience seemed to spring up within her. To wait 
and hope and love without return became a possibility ; 
and, though a few hot tears rolled down the cheeks, 
that had lost their roses, the eyes that shed them were 
more tender for the tears, and the heart that echoed 
the old wife’s words — “Strength is given us to bear 
our trials, if we take them meekly ” — was worthier of 
life’s best blessing, love, because of its submission. 

As she paused a moment to wipe away the tell-tale 
drops, before she joined the others, the sound of far-off 
music came on the wings of the wind, — a man’s voice, 
singing one of the love-lays that are never old. As if 
spell-bound, Rose stood motionless in the broad streak 
of light that fell athwart the road. She knew the voice, 
the sweet old song seemed answering her prayer, and 
now it needed no golden butterfly to guide her to her 
lover. 

Nearer and nearer came the singer, pouring out his 
lay as if his heart was in it. Brighter and brighter 
glowed the human rose, as the featherless nightingale 
told his tale in music, unconsciously approaching the 
happy sequel with each step. 

Out from the gloom he came, at last ; saw her wait- 
ing for him in the light ; seemed to read the glad truth 
in her face, and stretched both hands to her without a 
word. She took them; and what followed who shaft 
say? For the moon, best friend of lovers, discreetly 
slipped behind a cloud, and the pines whispered their 
congratulations as they wrapped the twain in deepest 
shadow. 

When, half an hour later, they joined the other pair 


THE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY. 135 


(«S’lio, strange to say, had quite forgotten their charge), 
Uncle Ben exclaimed, as he welcomed the new-comer 
with unusual cordiality : “ Why, Rose ! You look quite 
glorified in this light and as well as ever. We must 
try this cure again.” 

“ No need, sir. I have done with the heartache, and 
_ere is my physician,” answered Rose, with a look at 
her lover which told the story better than the best 
chosen words. 

“And here is mine,” echoed Milly, leaning on Uncle 
Ben’s arm as if it belonged to her; as it did, for the 
moonlight had been too much for the old bachelor, 
and, in spite of his fifty years, he had wooed and won 
Milly as ardently as any boy. So the lonely future she 
had accepted so cheerfully suddenly bloomed with happy 
hopes ; and the older couple looked as blissfully content 
as the young pair, who greeted with the blithest laughter 
that ever woke the echoes of the wood, this fit ending to 
the romance of a summer day. 


MY ROCOCO WATCH. 


A ll three of us were inspired with an intense desire 
to possess one of these quaint watches, the 
moment we saw one hanging at the side of a certain 
lovely woman at a party where it created a great sen- 
sation. 

Imitations we would not have, and the genuine arti- 
cle could not be found even in Geneva, the paradise of 
time-pieces. My sisters soon ceased to pine for the 
impossible, and contented themselves with other an- 
tique gauds. Fan rejoiced in a very ugly Cinque-Cento 
ring like a tiny coffin, and Mary was the proud pos- 
sessor of a Roman necklace composed of gods and 
goddesses. 

I, however, remained true to my first love and refused 
to be satisfied with any thing but a veritable rococo 
watch, for that, I maintained, united the useful and 
the beautiful. Resisting the temptations of Rome, 
Paris, and Geneva, I skilfully lured my unsuspecting 
party into all sorts of out-of-the-way places under 
pretence of studying up the old French cathedrals. 

The girls did the churches faithfully, but I shirked 
them and spent my shining hours jjoking about dirty 
streets and staring in at the windows of ancient jewelry 
shops, patiently seeking for the watch of my dreams. 
I was rallied unmercifully upon my mania, and many 


MY ROCOCO WATCH. 


137 


jokes were played upon me by the frolicksome girls, 
who more than once sent me posting off by reports of 
some remarkable trinket in some almost unattainable 
place. 

But, nothing daunted, I continued my vain search 
all through France, and never relinquished my hope 
till we left St. Malo on our way to Brest, whence we 
were to sail for home. Then I despaired, and, having 
nothing more to toil fbr, began to enjoy myself with a 
free mind, and then it was that capricious fortune 
chose to smile upon me and reward my long quest. 

Finding that we had a day before us, we explored 
the queer old town, and, as our tastes varied, each 
went a different way. I roamed about the narrow 
streets, seeking some odd souvenir to carry away, and 
was peering into a dark lane, attracted by some fine 
shells, when suddenly I was arrested by a sight which 
caused me to pause in the middle of a puddle, exclaim- 
ing dramatically, “ At last ! at last ! ” 

Yes, there, in the dusty window of a pawnbroker’s 
shop, hung the most enchanting watch, crystal ball, 
silver chains, enamelled medallions, and cluster of 
charms, all encrusted with pearls, garnets, and tur- 
quoises set in the genuine antique style. One long 
gaze, one rapturous exclamation, and I skipped from 
the puddle to the door-step, bent on securing the prize 
at all costs. 

Bouncing in upon a withered little man, who was 
taking coffee in a shadowy recess, I demanded the 
price of the watch. Of course the little man was cn 
the alert at once, and began by protesting that it was 
not for sale ; but I saw the fib in his eye, and sweetly 


138 


MY ROCOCO WATCH. 


insisted that I must have it. Then he improvised a 
mournful tale about a family of rank reduced by mis- 
fortune and forced to dispose of their cherished relics 
in some private manner. I affected to believe the 
touching romance, and offered a handsome sum for the 
watch, which, on closer inspection, struck me as rather 
more antique than even I desired. 

Instantly tlie little man clasped his hands and pro- 
tested that it was an insult to propose such a paltry 
price for so beautiful and perfect a treasure. Double 
the sum might be a temptation, but not a sou less. 

This was so absurd that 1 tried to haggle a little ; 
but I never succeeded in that line, so my attempt 
ended in both of us getting angry, when the little man 
tore the watch from my hands, and I left the shop as 
precipitately as I entered it. 

Retiring to the square to cool my indignation, I was 
reposing on a bench, when I beheld the little man 
approaching with the blandest expression, and, bowing 
profoundly, he resumed the subject as if we had parted 
amicably. 

“ If madame would allow him to consult the owner 
of this so charming watch, the affair might yet be 
arranged in a satisfactory manner. If madame would 
leave her address, he would report to her in a few 
hours, and have the happiness of obliging the dear 
lady.” 

I consented, but preferred to return to his shop later 
in the day, for I wished to astonish the girls by pro- 
ducing my prize at some opportune moment, and I 
much feared if I told them of my discovery that the 
bargain would never be made. 


MY ROCOCO WATCH. 


139 


I suffered agonies of suspense for hours, but basely 
attributed my restlessness to the heat and weariness 
Five o’clock and dinner, but I declined going down, 
and slipped away to my tryst with the little old man. 
He was ready for me with another romance of the 
noble owner’s reluctance to part with an heirloom for 
less than the price he had named. In vain I talked, 
wheedled, and protested ; the crafty little man saw that 
I meant to have that watch, and was firm. At last 1 
pretended to give it up, and, thanking him for his 
trouble, retired mournfully, hoping he would follow me 
again, for I had told him that I should leave in the 
steamer expected next day. 

But the evening passed, and no little man appeared, 
although I sat on the balcony till the moon rose. 
Morning came, and with it the steamer, but still no 
watch arrived, as other coveted articles had often done 
when we firmly refused to be imposed upon. 

My secret agitation increased, and my temptation 
waxed stronger and stronger as the hour of departure 
approached. The girls thought me nervous about the 
voyage, but were too busy to heed my preoccupation, 
while I was too much ashamed of my infatuation to 
confess it and ask advice. 

Fifteen minutes before we started for the wharf, I 
gave in, and muttering something about looking up tlie 
carriage, I flew round the corner, demanded the watch, 
paid an abominable price for it, and sneaked back, 
knowing I had been cheated by the sly old fellow, whc 
had evidently expected me, and whom I left chuckling 
over his bargain, as well he might, the rascal 1 

The moment the deed was done my spirits returned, 


140 


MY ROCOCO WATCH. 


and I beamed upon my sisters as benignly as if I cai^ 
ried a boundless supply of good humor in my pocket 
instead of that costly watch packed up in a shabby 
little box. 

We sailed, and for several days I forgot every thing 
but my own woe ; then came a calm, and then choos- 
ing a moment when the girls were comparing their 
treasures with those of other returning voyagers, 1 
proudly produced my watch. The effect was superb. 
Cries of admiration greeted it from all but my sisters, 
who looked at one another in comic dismay and burst 
into fits of laughter. 

“We saw it and tried to get it, but it cost so much 
we gave it up, and never told lest Penelope should be 
tempted beyond her strength. We might have spared 
our pains, for it was to be, and it is vain to fight against 
fate, only do tell us if you paid that Shylock what he 
asked us ? ” said Mary, naming a smaller sum than my 
first handsome offer. 

“ I did not pay that, and I shall never tell what it 
cost, for you wouldn’t believe me if I did. It was a 
good bargain, I assure you — for Shylock,” I added to 
myself, and kept my secret jealously, knowing I never 
should hear the last of it if the awful truth was known. 

My treasure was so much admired that I was afraid 
it would be ravished from me, and I hid it in all sorts 
of places, like a magpie with a stolen spoon. I never 
went on deck without taking it with me for safe keeping. 
I never woke in the morning without burrowing under 
my mattress to see if it was safe, and never turned in 
for the night without seeing that I was prepared for 
shipwreck by having my life-preserver handy and half 


ifl ROCOCO WATCH. 


141 


a-dozeii ship biscuits, a bottle of water, and the pre- 
cious box lashed firmly together, for with that dearly 
bought watch I was resolved to sink or swim, live or 
die. 

Being permitted to reach land in safety, I prepared to 
eclipse Fan’s ring and Mary’s necklace with my rich 
and rare rococo watch. But I found it impossible to 
set it going, though I tried all the keys in the nouse, so 
I took it to an experienced watchmaker and left it to 
be regulated. Every one knows what that means, and 
can imagine my imj^atience as week after week went by 
and still that blessed thing was not done. It came at 
last, however, and with it a bill that startled me ; but I 
could not dispute it, for the job was a difficult one, 
owing to the antiquity of the works and the skill re- 
quired to set a watch going that probably had not been 
wound up for half a century. 

It went for a week, and then stopped for ever ; for the 
general verdict was that no modern tinkering would 
restore its tone, since the springs of life were broken 
and the venerable wheels at a dead lock. 

“ Well, it is ornamental if not useful, only I am sorry 
I gave away my good old watch, thinking this would bo 
all I needed,” I said, making the best of what I alone 
knew to be a desperately bad bargain. 

So I hung the silent thing to my girdle and went 
forth to awaken the envy and admiration of all beholders. 
But, alas ! the second time I wore it, one of the medal- 
lions was lost, could not be found, and its place had 
to be filled with a modern one, entirely out of keeping 
with the others. Bill the second was paid with much 
lamentation, and again I tried to enjoy my watch. 


142 


MY BOCOCO WATCH. 


But the fates seemed to be against me, for presently U 
was stolen by a maid who admired mediaeval jewelry as 
well as her mistress. 

What a state of excitement we were in then, to 
be sure ! Cousin Dick took the matter in hand, and 
eearched for the lost watch with the patience, if not 
the skill, of a detective. Mysterious men came to ex- 
amine the servants, dreadful questions as to its value 
were put to me, and, worst of all, I knew that this sort 
of hide-and-go-seek was a fearfully expensive game, and 
of course I wasn’t going to let Dick pay for it. 

It was found at last, and restored to me somewhat 
the worse for the rough handling of curious admirers. 
Bill the third was paid with the calmness of despair, for I 
really began to think some evil spell was hidden in that 
crystal ball ; a spell which attracted, then infatuated, 
and now controlled me, leading me slowly and surely, 
through tribulation after tribulation, to the poorhouse 
in the end. 

The accidents that befell that fatal watch would fill 
a chapter, and the narrow escapes it had would make a 
thrilling tale. Babies half choked themselves with the 
charms, little Tommy was discovered trying to divest 
it of all incumbrances that he might use it as a “jolly 
big marble.” It was always falling off*, catching in 
buttons, or bobbing wildly about when I danced, and 
more than once I was cut to the soul by hearing be- 
nighted people wonder at Miss Pen’s bad taste in wear- 
ing Salom jewelry. Salom, be it known to the ignorant, 
is an excellent man who deals in mock ornaments of 
great brilliancy and cheapness. 

Soon the jewels began to fall out, and I scattered 


MT ROCOCO WATCH. 


143 


pearls about me like the young lady in the fairy tale. 
Then the chain broke, and the charms were lost. In 
one of the many falls, the crystal got cracked ; the silver 
tai nished till it looked like dingy lead, and at last no 
beauty remained to reconcile me to its utter uselessness. 
My poor watch was the standing joke of the family, and 
kept every one merry but its owner. To me it was a 
disgrace, and I suffered endless disappointments and 
dela} s by having no trusty time-keeper at hand. Pride 
prevented my applying to others, and bitterly I mourned 
in secret for the true old friend I had deserted when the 
false new one came. 

I ceased to wear the hollow mockery, and hoped 
people would forget it, but the girls still displayed their 
more successful ornaments ; and I was forced to tell the 
sad tale of my mortifying failure in reply to the natural 
question, — 

“ And what charming old trinket did Pen get ? ” 

But this was not the worst of it. Like little Rosa- 
mond in the moral tale, I had to wear my old shoes 
when the purple jar proved a delusion and a snare. I 
had overrun my allowance by that rash purchase, and 
had to economize just wlien I most wished to be fine* 
“Beauty unadorned,” and that sort of thing, is all non- 
sense when a woman burns to look her loveliest in the 
eyes of certain persons, and the anguish I endured when 
I looked at that rubbishy old watch, and thought what 
sweet things could have been bought with the money 
recklessly lavished upon it, can better be imagined than 
described. 

Fain would I have sold my treasure for a quarter 
what I gave for it, but who would buy the ruined relic 


144 


MY ROCOCO WATCH. 


now ? And the mere idea of having it even partially 
repaired made my blood run cold. So I laid it away 
as a warning example of woman’s folly, and began to 
save up, that I might replace it by a modern watch with 
all the improvemenis procurable for money. 

I was effectually cured of my passion for antiquities, 
and hated the sound of the word rococo. Nothing 
could be too new for me now, and I privately studied 
up on watches, being bound never to buy another, 
■which, though it might last to all eternity, yet had no 
connection with time. 

Slowly the memory of that temptation and fall seemed 
to fade from all minds but my own ; slowly my little 
hoard increased at the expense of many an ungratified 
whim, inviting bargain, or girlish vanity, and slowly I 
decided what sort of watch would most entirely com- 
bine the solid virtues and modest graces I desired to 
possess in the new one I intended to choose so wisely 
and well. 

But just as my hundred dollars was nearly completed, 
I discovered that Dick’s younger brother, Geordie, had 
got himself into a boyish scrape, and was planning to 
run away to sea as the best means of settling the diffi- 
culty. I was immediately possessed with an intense 
desire to help the poor lad, and, having won his confi- 
dence in a desponding moment, I offered my little 
hoard as a loan, to be paid in time, if he would accept 
it on no other condition. 

I really don’t think I could have done it for any one 
but Dick’s brother, and I did not desire any praise for 
it, since I made the boy take a solemn vow that it should 
be a secret between us for ever. It was reward enough 


MT ROCOCO WATCH. 


14.S 

to know that I had spared dear Dick another care, and 
done something to be more worthy of him, though it 
was only a little sacrifice like this. 

So Geordie was a free man again, and my devoted 
slave from that day forth, causing much merry wonder- 
ment in the family, and actually making Dick jealous 
by his grateful gallantry. 

My sacrifice cost me something more than the loss 
of my watch, however, for with a part of the money I 
had planned to get a fine Christmas gift for some ane, 
and now I was obliged to content myself with such a 
poor little offering that the girls called me mean, and 
nearly broke my heart by insisting that I did not care 
for somebody who cared a great deal for me. I bore it 
all and kept Geordie’s secret faithfully ; but I will con- 
fess that, in a paroxysm of anger with myself, I dashed 
that hateful rococo watch upon the floor and trampled 
on it as the only adequate vent for the conflicting emo- 
tions which possessed me. 

But the good fairies who fly about at Christmas time 
set every thing right, and broke the evil spell cast over 
me by the Breton magician in his gloomy cell. As we 
sat about the breakfast-table, talking over our gifts on 
the morning of that happy day, Dick and Geordie came 
in to see hovv we were after the fatigues of a grand 
family frolic the night before. 

“ Here’s a new conundrum ; guess it, girls,” said 
Geordie, who had the Dundreary fever upon him just at 
that time. “ I was sent to India and stopped there ; J 
came back because I did not go there. Now what 
was it?” 

We puzzled over it, but gave it up at last, and when 
10 


146 


MY ROCOCO WATCH. 


Geordie answered, “A watch,” there was a general 
laugh, for since my ruinous speculation that word 
always produced a sensation among us. 

“The place mentioned should have been Brittany, 
not India, hey. Pen?” said Dick, with a wicked 
twinkle of the eye. 

“Don’t,” I began, pathetically, as the girls giggled, 
and Mary added, with mock sympathy, “ Hush, boys, 
and let that sacred sorrow be for ever hidden in Pen’s 
own breast.” 

“Watch and pray, dear, watch and pray, for I’m sure 
you have need of both,” cried Fan, seeing my rising 
wrath. 

“ Pu* your hands before your face but don’t strike, 
I beg of you,” cut in Geordie, trying to be witty. 

“ It is a sad case, but I think I have a key that will 
wind up the affair and set all going right,” began Dick, 
still twinkling with fun. 

To have him join the enemy was too much for me, 
because he had always been very careful to avoid that 
tender point. 

“ If you say another word, I’ll throw the horrid thing 
into the fire, for I’m sick to death of hearing bad jokes 
made on it,” I cried, feeling a strong desire to shake 
them all round. 

“No doubt; give it to me, and you shall never see 
or hear of it again. I like old trinkets, and I’U never 
tell the story of that one, on my honor as a gentle- 
man,” said Dick, in a tone that appeased my wrath at 
once. 

“ Do you really want it ? ” I asked, pleased and sur- 
prised, yet still a little suspicious of some new joke. 


MY ROCOCO WATCH. 


147 


“ T do, because, although it will never go again, it 
will always remind me of some of the happiest hours 
and minutes of my life. Pen ” 

There was no fun in Dick’s eyes as he said that, and 
I was glad to hide the sudden color in my cheeks by 
running away to get the poor old watch. But I found 
there was a surprise, and a very pleasant one, in store 
for me; for, as I thrust the shabby box into Dicks 
pocket, he handed me a little parcel prettily tied up 
with white ribbons, saying in his most captivating way, 
“ Fair exchange is no robbery, you know, so you must 
take this, and then we shall be square.” 

“It looks like wedding cake,” I said, surveying it 
with curiosity, and wondering why Geordie and the 
girls did not stop to see the mystery unfolded. 

“No, that comes later, dear,” answered Dick, in a 
one that made me devote myself to the white ribbons 
with sudden zeal. 

A blue velvet case appeared, and I could not resist 
saying, in a voice more tender than reproachful, “You 
extravagant man ! I know it is something costly and 
beautiful in return for the disgracefully mean gift I 
gave you.” 

“ Bless your innocent heart, did you think you could 
hide any thing from me? Geordie couldn’t keep a 
•secret, and I’m only paying his debt, Pen dear, with 
the sort of interest women like,” Dick answered, with 
an audacious arm around my waist and a brown beard 
close to my cheek. 

As I did not refuse the offered interest, he added, in 
a softer tone, “ My own debt I never can settle unless 
with all my worldly goods I thee endow ; my heart you 


148 


MY ROCOCO WATCH. 


have had for years. Say yes, dear, and be my little 
chatelaine^'' 

Never mind what I said, hut I assure you if it had 
not been for Dick’s arm I should have gone under the 
table, when, a few minutes later, I lifted the blue 
velvet lid and saw a dainty watch luxuiiously lying 
on its white satin bed. 


BY THE RIYER. 

A LEGEND OF THE ASSABET. 


CHAPTER I. 

I N the shadow of the bridge a boy lay reading on the 
grass, — a slender lad, broad-browed and clear-eyed, 
barefooted and clad in homespun, yet happy as a king ; 
for health sat on his sunburned cheeks, a magic book 
lay open before him, and sixteen years of innocence 
gave him a passport to the freshest pleasures life can 
offer. 

“Nat! Nat! come here and see!” cried a shrill 
voice from among the alders by the river-side. 

But Nat only shook his head as if a winged name- 
sake had buzzed about his ears, and still read on. 
Presently a twelve-years child came scrambling up the 
bank, dragging a long rod behind her with a discon- 
tented air. 

“ I wish you’d come and help me. The fish won’t 
bite and my line is in a grievous snarl. Don’t read any 
more. I’m tired of playing all alone.” 

“I forgot you, Ruthy, and it was ill done of me. 
Sit here and rest while I undo the tangle,” and Nat 
looked up good-naturedly at the small figure before 
him, with its quaint pinafore, checked linen gown, and 
buckled shoes ; for this little maid lived nearly a hun- 


150 


BY THE RIVER. 


dred years ago and this lad had seen Washington face 
to face. 

“Now tell me a story while I wait. Not out of that 
stupid play-book you are always reading, but about 
something that really happened, with naughty children 
and nice folks in it, and have it end good,” said Ruth, 
beginning a dandelion chain ; for surely it is safe to 
believe that our honored grandmothers enjoyed that 
pretty pastime in their childhood. 

Nat lay in the grass, dreamily regarding the small 
personage who ruled him hke a queen and whom he 
served with the devotion of a loyal heart. Now the 
royal command was for a story, and, stifling a sigh, this 
rustic gentleman closed the book, whose magic had 
changed the spring morning to a Midsummer Night’s 
Dream for an hour, and set himself to gratify the little 
damsel’s whim. 

“You liked the last tale about the children who were 
lost. Shall I tell one about a child who was found? 
It really happened, and you never heard it before,” he 
asked. 

“Yes; but first put your head in my lap, for there 
are ants in the grass and I like to see your eyes shine 
when you spin stories. Tell away.” 

“ Once upon a time there was a great snow-storm,” 
began Nat, obediently pillowing his head on the blue 
pinafore. 

“ Whereabouts ? ” demanded Ruth. 

“ Don’t spoil the story by interrupting. It was in 
this town, and I can show you the very house I’m going 
to tell about.” 

“ I like to know things straight along, and not bounce 


BY THE RIVER, 


151 


into a snow-storm all in a minute. I’ll be good. Go 
on.” 

“Well, it snowed so hard that people stayed indoors 
till the storm had beat and blown itself away. Right 
in the worst of it, as a farmer and his wife sat by the 
fire that night, they heard a cry at the door. You see 
they were sitting very still, the man smoking his pipe 
and the woman knitting, both thinking sorrowfully of 
their only son, who had just died.” 

“Don’t have it doleful, Nat,” briskly suggested Ruth, 
working busily while the narrator’s hands lay idle, and 
his eyes looked as if they actually saw the little scene 
his fancy conjured up. 

“No, I won’t; only it really was like that,” apolo- 
gized Nat, seeing that sentiment was not likely to suit 
his matter-of-fact auditor. “When the cry came a 
second time, both of these people ran to the door. No 
one was to be seen, but on the wide step they saw a 
little mound not there an hour before. Brushing off 
the snow, they found a basket ; and, when they opened 
it, there lay a little baby, who put out its arms with a 
pitiful cry, that went to their hearts. The woman 
hugged it close, fed it, and hushed it to sleep as if it 
had been her own. Her husband let her do as she 
liked, while he tried to find where it came from ; but 
no trace appeared, and there was no name or mark on 
the poor thing’s clothes.” 

“ Did they keep it?” asked Ruth, tickling Nat’s nose 
vith a curly dandelion stem, to goad him on, as he lay 
silent for a moment. 

“Yes, they kept it; for their hearts were sore and 
empty, and the forlorn baby seemed to fill them com- 


152 


BY THE RIVEH, 


forlably. The townsfolk gossiped awhile, but soon for- 
got it ; and it grew up as if it had been born in the 
farmer’s house. Tve often wondered if it W'asn’t the 
soul of the little son who died, come back in another 
shape to comfort those good people.” 

“ Now don’t go wandering off, Nat ; but tell me if he 
was a pretty, nice, smart child,” said Ruth, with an eye 
to the hero’s future capabilities. 

“Not a bit pretty,” laughed Nat, “for he grew up 
tall and thin, with big eyes and a queer brow. He 
wasn’t ‘nice,’ either, if you mean good, for he got 
angry sometimes and was lazy; but he tried, — oh! 
yes, he truly tried to be a dutiful lad. He wasn’t 
‘ smart,’ Ruth ; for he hated to study, and only loved 
story books, ballads, and plays, and liked to wander 
round alone in the woods better than to be with other 
boys. People laughed at him because of his queersome 
ways ; but he couldn’t help it, — he was born so, and it 
would come out.” 

“ He was what Aunt Becky calls shiftless, I guess. 
She says you are ; but I don’t mind as long as you take 
care of me and tell me stories.” 

The boy sighed and shook his head as if a whole 
swarm of gnats were annoying him now. “He was 
grateful, anyhow, this fellow I’m telling about ; for he 
loved the good folks and worked on the farm with all 
his might to pay them for their pity. He never com- 
plained ; but he hated it, for delving day after day in 
the dirt made him feel as if he was nothing but a 
worm.” 

“We are all worms,” Deacon Hurd says; “so the 
boy needn’t have minded,” said Ruth, trying to assume 


BF THE niVEB. 


153 


a primly pious expression, that sat very ill upon her 
blooming little face. 

“ But some worms can turn into butterflies, if they 
get a chance; so the boy did mind, Ruthy.” And Nat 
looked out into the summer world with a longing 
glance, which proved that he already felt conscious of 
the folded wings and was eager to try them. 

“Was he a God-fearing boy?” asked Ruth, with a 
tweak of the ear ; for her friend showed signs of “ wan- 
dering off*” again into a world where her prosaic little 
mind could not follow him. 

“He didn’t fear God; he loved Him. Perhaps it 
was wrong ; but somehow he couldn’t believe in a God 
of wrath when he saw how good and beautiful the 
world was and how kind folks were to him. He felt as 
if the Lord was his father, for he had no other ; and 
when he was lonesomest that thought was right com- 
fortable and helpful to him. Was it wrong?” asked 
Nat of the child. 

“I’m afraid Aunt Becky would think so. She’s 
awful pious, and boxed my ears with a psalm-book last 
Sabbath, when I said I wished the lions would bite 
Daniel in the den, I was so tired of seeing them stare 
and roar at him. She wouldn’t let me look at the 
pictures in the big Bible another minute, and gave me 
a long hymn to learn, shut up in the back bedroom. 
She’s a godly woman. Deacon Hurd says ; but I think 
she’s uncommon strict.” 

“ Shall I tell any more, or are you tired of this stupid 
boy?” said Nat, modestly. 

“Yes, you may as well finish. But do have some- 
thing happen. Make him grow a great man, like Whit- 


154 


BY TEE RIVER, 


tingU>n, or some of the story-book folks, it’s so nice to 
read about,” answered Ruth, rather impatiently. 

“ I hope he did something better than trade cats and 
be lord mayor of London. But that part of the story 
hasn’t come yet; so I’ll tell you of two things that 
happened, one sad and one merry. When the boy 
was fourteen, the good woman died, and that nearly 
broke his heart; for she had made things easy for him, 
and he loved, her dearly. The farmer sent for his sister 
to keep house, and then the boy found it harder than 
ever to bear his life; for the sister was a notable 
woman, well-meaning, but as strict as Aunt Becky, and 
she pestered the lad as Aunt pesters me. You see, 
Ruthy, it grew harder every year for him to work on 
the farm, for he longed to be away somewhere quiet 
among books and learned folk. He was not like those 
about him, and grew more unlike all the time, and people 
often said : ‘ He’s come of gentle blood. That’s plain 
to see.’ He loved to think it was true, — not because 
he wanted to be rich and fine, but to find his own place 
and live the life the Lord meant him to. This feeling 
made him so unhappy that he was often tempted to 
run away, and would have done it but for the gratitude 
that kept him. 

“ Lack-a-daisy ! What a bad boy, when he had good 
clothes and victuals and folks were clever to him ! But 
did he ever find his grand relations?” asked Ruth, 
curiosity getting the better of the reproof she thought 
it her duty to administer. 

“I don’t know yet. But he did find something that 
made him happier and more contented. Listen now ; 
for you’ll like this part, I know. One night, as he came 


BY THE RIVER. 


155 


home with the cows, watching the pretty red in the 
sky, hearing the crickets chirp, and picking flowers 
along the way, because he liked to have ’em in his 
room, he felt uncommon lonesome, and kept wishing 
he’d meet a fkiry who’d give him all he wanted When 
he got to the house, he thought the fairy had really 
come ; for there on the door-stone stood a little lass, 
looking at him. A right splendid little lass, Ruth, 
with brown hair long upon her shoulders, blue eyes full 
of smiles, and a face like one of the pink roses in 
Madam Barrett’s garden.” 

“Did she have good clothes?” demanded Ruth, 
eagerly, for this part of the tale did interest her, as Nat 
foretold. 

“Let me see. Yes, nice clothes; but sad-colored, 
for the riding-cloak that hung over her white dimity 
frock was black. Yet she stood on a pair of the 
trimmest feet ever seen, wearing hose with fine clocks, 
and silver buckles in the little shoes. You may believe 
the boy stared well, for he had never seen so pretty a 
sight in all his days, and before he knew it he had given 
her his nosegay of sheepsbane, fern, and honeysuckle. 
She took it, looking pleased, and made him as fine a 
courtesy as any lady; whereat he turned red and 
foolish, being shy, and hurried off into the barn. But 
she came skipping after, and peeped at him as he 
milked, watched how he did it for a bit, and then said, 
like a little queen, ‘ Boy, get up and let me try.’ That 
pleased him mightily; so, taking little madam on his 
knee, he let her try. But something went amiss, for 
all at once Brindle kicked over the pail, away went 
the three-legged stool, and both the milkers lay in the 
dirt.” 


156 


BY TEE BIYEB. 


’’Why, Nat! why, Nat! that was you and I,” cned 
Ruth, clapping her hands delightedly, as this catastro- 
phe confirmed the suspicions which had been growing 
in her mind since the appearance of the child. 

“Hush! or I’ll never tell how they got up,” said 
Nat, hurrying on with a mirthful face. “ The boy 
thought the little maid would cry over her bruised arm 
or go ofi* in a jDet at sight of the spoilt frock. But no: 
she only laughed, patted old Brindle, and sat down, 
saying stoutly, ‘ I shall try again and do it right.’ So 
she did, and while she milked she told how she was an 
orphan and had come to be Uncle Dan’s girl all her 
life. That was a pleasant hearing for the lad, and he 
felt as if the fairy had done better by him than he had 
hoped. They were friends at once, and played cat’s 
cradle on the kitchen settle all the evening. But, when 
the child was put to bed in a strange room, her little 
heart failed her, and she fell a-sobbing for her mother. 
Nothing would comfort her till the boy went up and 
sang her to sleep, with her pretty hand in his and all 
her tears quite gone. That was nigh upon two years 
ago; but from that night they were fast friends, and 
happier times began for the boy, because he had some- 
thing to love and live for besides work. She was very 
good to him, and nowhere in all the world was there a 
dearer, sweeter lass than Nat Snow’s little maid.” 

During the latter part of this tale “founded upon 
fact,” Ruth had been hugging her playmate’s head in 
both her chubby arms, and when he ended by drawing 
down the rosy face to kiss it softly on the lips it grew 
a very April countenance, as she exclaimed, with a 
childish burst of afiection, curiosity, and wonder, — 


BY THE RIVER. 


157 


“ Dear N at, how good you were to me that night ana 
ever since ! Did you really come in a basket, and don’t 
you know any thing about your folks? Good lack! 
And to think you may turn out a lord’s son, after all! ” 

“How could I help being good to you, dear? Yes, 
I’ll show you the very basket, if Aunt Becky has not 
burnt it up as rubbish. I know nought about my folk, 
and have no name but Snow. Uncle Dan gave me 
that because I came in the storm, and the dear mother 
added Nathaniel, her own boy’s name, since I was sent 
to take his place, she said. As for being a lord’s son, 
I’d rather be a greater man than that.” 

And Nat rose up with sudden energy in his voice, 
a sudden kindling of the eyes, that pleased Ruth, and 
made her ask, with firm faith in the possibility of his 
being any thing he chose, — 

“ You mean a king ? ” 

“No, a poet!” 

“ But that’s not fine at all ! ” and Ruth looked much 
disappointed. 

“ It is the grandest thing in the world ! Look now, 
the man who wrote this play was a poet, and, though 
*ong dead, he is still loved and honored, when the 
kings and queens he told about would be forgotten 
but for him. Who cares for them, with all their 
Bplendor? Who does not worship William Shake- 
speare, whose genius made him greater than the whole 
of them!” cried Nat, hugging the dingy book, his face 
all aglow with the beautiful enthusiasm of a true 
believer. 

“Was Master Shakespeare rich and great?” asked 
Ruth, staring at him with round eyes. 


158 


BY THE BIVER. 


“ Never rich or great in the way you mean, or even 
famous, till after he was dead.” 

“ Then I’d rather have you like Major Wild, for he 
owns much land, lives in a grand house, and wears the 
finest-laced coat in all the town. Will you be like him, 
please, Nat ? ” 

“No, I won’t!” answered the lad, with emphatic 
brevity, as the image of the red-faced, roystering 
Major passed before his mind’s eye. 

His bluntness ruffled his little sovereign’s temper for 
a moment, and she asked with a frown, — 

“What do you think Aunt Becky said yesterday, 
when we found ever so many of your verses hidden in 
the clothes-press, where we went to put lavender among 
the linen ? ” 

“ Something sharp, and burnt the papers. I’ll war- 
rant,” replied Nat, with the resignation of one used to 
such trials. 

“No, she kept ’em to cover jam-pots with, and she 
said you were either a fool or a genus. Is a genus very 
bad, Nat?” added Ruth, relenting as she saw his 
dreamy eyes light up with what she fancied was a 
spark of anger. 

“Aunt Becky thinks so; but I don’t, and, though I 
may not be one, sooner or later folks shall see that I’m 
no fool, for I feel, I know, I was not born to hoe corn 
and feed pigs all my life.” 

“ What will you do ? ” cried Ruth, startled by the 
almost passionate energy with which he spoke. 

“ Till I’m twenty-one I’ll stay to do my duty; When 
the time comes. I’ll break away and try my own life, 
for I shall have a right to do it then.” 


BY TEE BIVER. 


159 


“And leave me? Nay, I’ll not let you go.” And 
Ruth threw her dandelion chain about his neck, claim- 
ing her bondsman with the childish tyranny he found 
BO sweet. 

He laughed and let her hold him, seeing how frail 
the green links were ; little dreaming how true a symbol 
it was of the stronger tie by which she would hold him 
when the time came to choose between liberty and 
love. 

“Five years is a long time, Ruthy. You will get 
tired of my odd ways, and be glad to have me go. 
But never fret about it ; for, whatever happens. I’ll not 
forget you.” 

Quite satisfied with this promise, the little maid fell 
to sticking buttercups in the band of the straw hat her 
own nimble fingers had braided, as if bent on securing 
one crown for her friend. But Nat, leaning his head 
upon his hand, sat watching the sunshine glitter on the 
placid stream that rippled at his feet, with such intent- 
ness that Ruth presently disturbed him by demanding 
curiously, — 

“ What is it ? A kingfisher or a turtle ? ” 

“ It’s the river, dear. It seems to sing to me as it' 
goes by. I always hear it, yet I never understand what 
it says. Do you ? ” 

Ruth fixed her blue eyes on the bluer water, listened 
for an instant, then laughed out blithely, and sprung 
up, saying, — 

“ It sings : ‘ Come and fish, Nat. Come and fish ! ’ ” 

The boy’s face fell, the dreamy look faded, and, with 
a patient sort of sigh, he rose and followed her, leaving 
his broken dream with his beloved book among the 


160 


BY THE RIVER. 


buttercups. But, though he sat by Ruth in the shadow 
of the alder-bushes, his rod hung idly from his hand, 
for he was drawing bright fancies from a stream she 
never saw, was dimly feeling that he had a harder knot 
to disentangle than his little friend’s, and faintly hear 
Ing a higher call than hers, in the ripple of the river. 


CHAPTER II. 

Five years later Ruth was in the dairy making up 
butter, surrounded by tier above tier of shining pans, 
whence proceeded a breath as fresh and fragrant as if 
the ghosts of departed king-cups and clover still 
haunted the spot. Standing before a window where 
morning-glories rung their colored bells in the balmy 
air, she was as pleasant a sight as any eye need wish to 
see upon a summer’s day; for the merry child had 
bloomed into a sprightly girl, rich in rustic health and 
beauty. All practical virtues were hers; and, while 
they wore so comely a shape, they possessed a grace 
that hid the lack of those finer attributes which give 
to womanhood its highest charm. The present was 
all in all to Ruth. Its homely duties were her world, 
its petty griefs and joys her life, and her ambition was 
bounded by her desire to show her mates the finest 
yarn, the sweetest butter, the gayest cardinal, and the 
handsomest sweetheart, in the town. An essentially 
domestic character, cheery as the blaze upon the hearth, 
contented as the little kettle singing there, and so affec- 


BT THE RIVER, 


161 


donate, discreet, and diligent that she was the model 
damsel of the town, the comfort of Uncle Daniel’s age, 
the pride of Aunt Becky’s heart, the joy of Nat’s life, 
and the desire of his eyes. 

Unlike as ever, the pair were still fast friends. Nay 
more, for the past year had been imperceptibly trans- 
forming that mild sentiment into a much warmer one 
by the magic of beauty, youth, and time. Year after 
year Nat had patiently toiled on, for gratitude con- 
trolled ambition, and Ruth’s presence made his life 
endurable. But Nature was stronger than duty or love, 
and as the boy ripened into the man he looked wistfully 
beyond the narrow present into the great future, which 
allures such as he with vague, sweet prophecies, hard to 
be resisted. Silently the struggle went on, steadily the 
inborn longing strengthened, and slowly the resolution 
was fixed to put his one gift to the test and learn if it 
was a vain delusion or a lovely possibility. Each year 
proved to himself and those about him that their world 
was not his world, their life his life ; for, like Andersen’s 
young swan, the barnyard was no home to him, and 
when the other fowls cackled, hissed, and scolded, he 
could only put his head under his wing and sigh for the 
time when he should join “the beautiful white birds 
among the rushes of the stream that flowed through 
the poet’s garden, where the sun shone and the little 
children played.” 

Ruth knew his dreams and desires ; but, as she could 
not understand them, she tried to cure them by every 
innocent art in her power, and nursed him through 
many a fit of the heart-sickness of hope deferred as 
patiently as she would have done through any less 
11 


162 


BY TEE RIVEB, 


occult disease that flesh is heir to. She was thinking 
of him as she worked that day, and wishing she could 
mould his life as easily as she did the yellow lumps before 
her, stamping them with her own mark, and setting 
them away for her own use. She felt that some change 
was about to befall Nat, for she had listened to the mur* 
mur of voices as the old man and the young sat talking 
far into the night. What tl e result had been was as 
yet unknown; for Uncle Daniel was unusually taciturn 
that morning, and Nat had been shut up in his room 
since breakfast, though spring work waited for him all 
about the farm. 

An unwonted sobriety sat on Ruth’s usually cheer- 
ful face, and she was not singing as she worked, but 
listening intently for a well-known step to descend the 
creaking stairs. Presently it came, paused a moment 
in the big kitchen, where Aunt Becky was flying about 
like a domestic whirlwind, and Ruth heard Nat ask for 
her with a ring in his voice that made her heart begin 
to flutter. 

“ She’s in the dairy. But for landsake where are you 
a-going, boy? I declare for’t, you look so flne and 
chirk I scursely knew yer,” answered the old lady, 
pausing in her work to stare at the astonishing spectacle 
of Nat in his Sunday best upon a week day. 

“ I’m going to seek my fortune. Aunty. Won’t you 
wish me luck?” replied Nat, cheerily. 

Aunt Becky had a proverb for every occasion, and 
could not lose this opportunity for enriching the mal- 
content with a few suited to his case. 

“ Y es, child, the best of lucks ; but it’s my opinion 
that, if we ^ get spindle and distaff ready, the Lord will 


BY TEE BJVER. 


163 


send tlie flax,’ without our goin’ to look for’t. ‘ Every 
road has its puddle,’ and ‘he that prieth into a cloud 
may get struck by lightenin’.’ God bless you, my dear, 
and remember that ‘ a handful of good life is wuth a 
bushel of learnin’.’ ” 

“I will, Ma’am ; and also bear in mind that ‘he who 
would have eggs must bear the cackling of hens,”’ with 
which return shot Nat vanished, leaving the old lady 
to expend her energies and proverbs upon the bread 
she was kneading with a vigor that set the trough rock- 
ing like a cradle. 

Why Ruth began to sing just then, and why she 
became so absorbed in her oleaginous sculpture as to 
seem entirely unconscious of the appearance of a young 
man at the dairy door, are questions which every woman 
will find no difficulty in answering. Actuated by one 
of the whims which often rule the simplest of the sex, 
she worked and sang as if no anxiety had ruffled her 
quiet heart; while Nat stood and watched her with an 
expression which would have silenced her, had she 
chosen to look up and meet it. 

The years that had done much for Ruth had been 
equally kind to Nat, in giving him a generous growth 
for the figure leaning in the doorway seemed full of 
the vigor of wholesome country life. But the head that 
crowned it was such as one seldom sees on a farmer’s 
shoulders; for the brown locks, gathered back into a 
ribbon, after the fashion of the time, showed a forehead 
of harmonious outline, overarching eyes full of the 
pathos and the passion that betray the presence of that 
gift which is divine when young. The mouth was sensi- 
tive as any woman’s, and the lips were often folded 


164 


BY THE RIVER. 


close, as if pride controlled the. varying emotions tha. 
swayed a nature ardent and aspiring as a flame of fire. 
Few could read the language of this face, yet many felt 
the beauty that it owed to a finer source than any grace 
of shape or color, and wondered where the subtle secret 
lay. 

“Ruth, may I tell you something?” 

“ Of course you may. Only don’t upset the salt-box 
or sit down upon the churn.” 

Nat did neither, but still leaned in the doorway and 
still watched the trim figure before him, as if it was 
very pleasant to his eyes; while Ruth, after a brief 
glance over her shoulder, a nod and a smile, spatted 
away as busily as ever. 

“You know I was one-and-twenty yesterday?” 

“ I’m not like to forget it, after sewing my eyes out 
to work a smart waistcoat as a keepsake.” ^ 

“Nor I; for there’s not such another in the town, 
and every rosebud is as perfect as if just pulled from 
our bush yonder. See, I’ve put it on as knights put on 
their armor when they went to fight for fortune and 
their ladies’ love.” 

As he spoke, Nat smilingly thrust his hands into the 
pockets of a long-flapped garment, which was a master- 
piece of the needlework in vogue a century ago. Ruth 
glanced up at him with eyes full of hearty admiration for 
the waistcoat and its wearer. But something in those 
last words of his filled her with a trouble both sweet 
and bitter, as she asked anxiously, — 

“Are you going away, Nat?” 

“For a week only. Uncle has been very kind, ana 
given me a chance to prove which road it’s best for me 


BY THE RIVER. 


165 


to take, since the time has come when I must choose. 
I ride to Boston this afternoon, Ruth, carrying my 
poems with me, that I may submit them to the criticism 
of certain learned gentlemen, who can tell me if I de- 
ceive myself or not. I have agreed to abide by their de- 
cision, and if it is in my favor — as God grant it be — 
Uncle leaves me free to live the life I love, among my 
books and all that makes this world glorious. Think, 
Ruth, — a poet in good truth, to sing when I will, and 
delve no more ! Will you be pleased and proud if I 
come back and tell you this ? ” 

“ Indeed, I will, if it makes you happy. And yet ” — 
She paused there, looking wistfully into his face, now all 
aglow with the hope and faith that are so blissful and 
so brief. 

“ What is it, lass ? Speak out and tell me all that s 
in your heart, for I mean to show you mine,” he said in 
a commanding tone seldom heard before, for he seemed 
already to have claimed the fair inheritance that makes 
the poet the equal of the prince. 

Ruth felt the change with a thrill of pride, yet dared 
suggest the possibility of failure, as a finer nature would 
have shrunk from doing in such a happy, hopeful hour 
as that. 

“If the learned gentlemen decide that the poems 
have no worth, what then ?” 

He looked at her an instant, like one fallen from the 
clouds, then squared his shoulders, as if resettling the 
burden put ofi* for a day, and answered bravely, though 
a sudden shadow crossed his face, 

“ Then I give up my dream and fall to work again, — 
no poet, but a man, who will do his best to be an honest 


166 


BY THE RIVER. 


one. I have promised Uncle to abide by this decision, 
and I’ll keep my word.” 

“Will it be very hard, Nat?” and Ruth’s eyes grew 
pitiful, for in his she read how much the sacrifice would 
cost him. 

“ Ay, lass, very hard,” he said briefly ; then added, 
with an eloquent change in voice and face, “unless you 
help me bear it. Sweetheart, whichever road I take, I 
had no thought to go alone. Will you walk with me, 
Ruth ? God knows I’ll make the way as smooth and 
pleasant as a faithful husband can.” 

The busy hands stopped working there, for Nat held 
them fast in his, and all her downcast eyes could see 
were the gay flowers her needle wrought, agitated by 
the beating of the man’s heart underneath. Her color 
deepened beautifully and her lips trembled, in spite of 
the arch smile they wore, as she said half-tenderly, 
half- wilfully, — 

“ But I should be afeared to marry a poet, if they are 
such strange afld delicate creatures as I’ve heard tell. 
’Twould be like keeping house for a butterfly. I tried 
to cage one once ; but the poor thing spoilt its pretty 
wings beating against the bars, and when I let it go it 
just dropped down and died among the roses there.” 

“ But if I be no poet, only a plain farmer, with no 
ambition except how I may prosper and make my wdfe 
a happy woman, what answer then, Ruth ? ” he asked, 
feeling as the morning-glories might have felt if a cold 
wind had blown over them. 

“ Dear lad, it’s this ! ” and, throwing both anus about 
his neck, the honest little creature kissed his brown 
cheek heartily. 


BY THE RIVER, 


167 


After that no wonder if Ruth forgot her work, never 
saw an audacious sunbeam withering the yellow roses 
ehe had caused to bloom, never heard the buzz of an 
invading fly, nor thought to praise the labor of her 
hands, though her plump cheek was taking off* impres- 
sions of the buttons on the noble waistcoat. While to 
Nat the little dairy had suddenly become a Paradise, 
life for a moment was all poetry, and nothing in the 
wide world seemed impossible. 

“ Ruth ! Ruth ! The cat’s fell into the pork-kag, and 
my hands is in the dough. For massy sake, run down 
suller and fish her out ! ” 

That shrill cry from Aunt Becky broke the spell, dis 
solved the blissful dream, for, true to her instincts, Ruth 
forgot the lover in the housewife, and vanished, leaving 
Nat alone with his love — and the butter-pats. 


CHAPTER III. 

He rode gallantly away to Boston that afternoon, 
and ten days later came riding slowly home again, with 
the precious manuscript still in his saddle-bag. 

“What luck, boy?” asked Uncle Dan, with a keen 
glance from under his shaggy brows, as the young man 
came into the big kitchen, where they all sat together 
when the day’s work was done. 

“ Pretty much what you foretold, sir,” answered Nat, 
trying to smile bravely as he took his place beside Ruth 
on the settle, where she sat making up cherry-colored 
breast-knots by the light of one candle. 


168 


BY THE RIVER, 


“ Fools go out to shear and come home shorn,” mut- 
tered Aunt Becky from the chimney-corner, where she 
sat reeling yarn and brooding over some delectable 
mess that simmered on the coals. 

Nat did not hear the flattering remark; for he was 
fingering a little packet that silently told the story of 
failure in its dog-eared leaves, torn wrappers, and care- 
lessly knotted string. 

“Yes,” he said rapidly, as if anxious to have a hard 
task over, “ I showed my poems to sundry gentlemen, 
as I proposed. One liked them much, and said they 
showed good promise of better things J but added that 
it was no time for such matters now, and advised me to 
lay them by till I was older. A very courteous and 
friendly man this was, and I felt much beholden to him 
for his gracious speeches. The second criticized my 
work sharply, and showed me how I should mend it. 
But, when he was done, I found all the poetry had gone 
out of my poor lines, and nothing was left but fine 
words; so I thanked him and went away, thinking 
better of my poems than when I entered. The third 
wise man gave me his opinion very briefly, saying, as 
he handed back the book, ‘ Put it in the fire. * ” 

“ Nay ! but that was too harsh. They are very pretty 
verses, Nat, though most of them are far beyond my 
poor wits,” said Ruth, trying to lighten the disappoint- 
ment that she saw weighed heavily on her lover’s spirit. 

“In the good gentleman’s study, I had a sight of 
some of the great poets of the world, and while he 
read my verses I got a taste of Milton, Spenser, and 
my own Shakespeare’s noble sonnets. I saw what mine 
lacked; yet some of them rang true, so I took heart 


BY THE RIVEB. 


169 


and trimmed tliera np in the fashion my masters set 
me. Let me read you one or two, Ruth, while you tie 
your true lover’s knots.” 

And, eagerly opening the beloved book, Nat began 
to lead by the dim light of the tallow candle, blind to 
the resigned expression Ruth’s face assumed, deaf to 
Aunt Becky’s muttered opinion that “an idle brain 
is the devil’s workshop,” and quite unconscious that 
L ncle Ran spread a checked handkerchief over his bald 
pate, ready for a nap. Absorbed in his delightful task, 
th’i young poet went on reading his most perfect lines, 
with a face that brightened blissfully, till, just as he 
was giving a love-lay in his tenderest tone, a mild snore 
checked his heavenward flight, and brought him back 
to earth with a rude shock.* He started, paused, and 
looked about him, like one suddenly wakened from a 
happy dream. Uncle Ran was sound asleep. Aunt 
Becky busily counting her tidy skeins, and Ruth, making 
a mirror of one of the well-scoured pewter platters on 
the dresser, was so absorbed in studying the effect of 
the gay breast-knots that she innocently betrayed her 
inattention by exclaiming, with a pretty air of re- 
gret, — 

“ And that’s the end ? ” 

“ That is the end,” he answered, gently closing the 
book which no one cared to hear, and, hiding his re- 
proachful eyes behind his hand, he sat silent, till Uncle 
Dan, roused by the cessation of the melodious murmur 
that had soothed his ear, demanded with kindly blunt- 
ness, — 

“Well, boy, which is it to be, moonshine or money? 
1 want you tc be spry about decidin’, for things is 


170 


BY THE BIVER. 


gittin’ behindhand, and I cattle’ate to hire if you mean 
to quit work.” 

“ Sakes alive ! No man in his senses would set long 
on the fence when there’s a good farm and a smart wife 
a-waitin on one side and nothin’ but poetry and star- 
vation on the other!” ejaculated Aunt Becky, briskly 
clattering the saucepan-lid, as if to add the savory 
temptations of the flesh to those of filthy lucre. 

Ruth said nothing, but looked up at Nat with the one 
poetic sentiment of her nature shining in her eyes and 
touching her with its tender magic, till it seemed an 
easy thing to give up liberty for love. The dandelion 
chain the child wove round the boy had changed to a 
flowery garland now, but the man never saw the thorns 
among the roses, and let the woman fetter him again ; 
for, as he looked at her, Nat flung the cherished book 
into the fire with one hand, and with the other took 
possession of the only bribe that could win him from 
that other love. 

“I decide as you would have me, sir. Not for the 
sake of the farm you promise me, but for love of her 
who shall one day be its happy mistress, please God.” 

“Now that’s sensible and hearty, and I’m waal 
pleased, my boy. You jest buckle to for a year stiddy 
and let your ink-horn dry, and we’ll have as harnsome 
a w<^ddin’ as man could wish, — always providin’ Ruth 
don’t change her mind,” said Uncle Dan, beaming be- 
nignantly at the young pair through a cloud of tobacco 
smoke ; while Aunt Becky poked the condemned manu- 
script deeper into the coals, as if anxious to exorcise 
its witchcraft by fire, in the good old fashion. 

But even in Ruth’s arms Nat cast one longing, lo'\ ing 


BY THE RIVER. 


ITl 


glance at his first-born darling on its funeral-pyre ; then 
turned his head resolutely away, and whispered to the 
girl, — 

“Never doubt that I love you, sweetheart, since for 
your sake I have given up the ambition of my life. 1 
don’t regret it, but be patient with me till I learn to live 
without my ‘ moonshine,’ as you call it.” 

“ Sunshine is better, and I’ll make it for you, if I can. 
So cheer up, dear lad, fall to work like a man, and you’ll 
soon forget your pretty nonsense,” answered Ruth, with 
firm faith in the cure she proposed. 

“I’ll try.” 

And, folding his wings, Pegasus bent his neck to the 
yoke and fell to ploughing. 

Nat kept his word and did try manfully, working 
early and late, with an energy that delighted Uncle Dan, 
made Aunt Becky bestir herself to bleach her finest webs 
for the wedding outfit, and caused Ruth to believe that 
he had forgotten the “ pretty nonsense ; ” for the pen 
lay idle and he gave all his leisure to her, discussing 
house-gear and stock with as deep an interest as herself 
apparently. All summer long he toiled like one intent 
only on his crops ; all winter he cut wood and tended 
cattle, as if he had no higher hope than to sell so many 
cords and raise likely calves for market. 

Outwardly he was a promising young farmer, with a 
prosperous future and a notable wife awaiting him. But 
deep in the man’s heart a spark of the divine fire still 
burned, unquenched by duty, love, or time. The spirit 
that made light in Milton’s darkness, walked with Burns 
beside the plough, and lifted Shakespeare higher than the 
royal virgin’s hand, sang to Nat in the airy whisper of 


172 


BY THE RIVER. 


the pines, as he labored in the wintry wood, smiled 
back at him in every ox-eyed daisy his scythe laid low 
along the summer fields, and solaced him with visions 
of a fairer future than any buxom Ruth could paint. It 
would not leave him, and he learned too late that it was 
the life of his life, a gift that could not be returned, a 
blessing turned into a curse ; for, though he had burned 
the little book, from its ashes rose a flame that consumed 
him, since it could find no vent. Even the affection, for 
which he had made a costlier sacrifice than he knew, 
looked pale and poor beside the loftier loveliness that 
dawned upon him in the passionate struggle, ripening 
heart and soul to sudden manhood ; and the life that 
lay before him seemed very bleak and barren when he 
returned from playing truant in the enchanted world 
Imagination opens to her gifted children. 

Ruth vaguely felt the presence of this dumb despair, 
dimly saw its shadow in the eyes that sometimes wore 
a tragic look, and fancied that the hand working so 
faithfully for her was slipping from her hold, it grew so 
thin and hot with the inward fever, which no herb in 
all her garden could allay. She vainly tried to rise to 
his level ; but the busy sparrow could not follow the 
aspiring lark, singing at heaven’s gate. It could only 
chirp its little lay and build its nest, with no thought be- 
yond a straw, a worm, and the mate that was to come. 

Nat never spoke of the past, and Ruth dared not, for 
she grew to feel that he did “ regret it ” bitterly, though 
too generous for a word of reproach or complaint. 

“ I’ll make it up to him when we are married ; and he 
will learn to love the farm when he has little lads and 
lasses of his own to work for,” she often said to herself 


BY THE RIVER. 


17 ;? 


as slie watched her lover sit among them, after his day’s 
work, listening to their gossip with a pathetic sort of 
patience, or, pleading a weariness there was no need to 
feign, lie on the old settle, lost in thoughts that made 
Ids face shine like one who talked^ with angels. 

So the year rolled round, and May came again, 
tlncle Dan was well satisfied. Aunt Becky’s prepara- 
tions were completed, and Ruth had not “ changed her 
mind.” 

“ Settle about the weddin’ as soon as you like, my 
girl, and I’ll see that it is a merry one,” said the old 
man, coming in from work, as Ruth blew the horn from 
the back porch one night at sunset. 

“Nat must decide that. Where is he. Uncle?’' 
asked the girl, looking out upon the quiet landscape, 
touched with spring’s tenderest green. 

“Down in the medder, ploughin’. It’s a toughish 
bit, and he’ll be late, I reckon ; for he took a long noon- 
spell, and I give him a piece of my mind about it, so 
I’ll venter to say he won’t touch a bit of victuals till 
the last furrow is laid,” answered Uncle Dan, plodding 
away to wash his hands at the horse-trough. 

“Nay, Uncle, it is his birthday, and surely he had a 
right to a little rest, for he works like a slave, to please 
us, though far from well, I’m thinking.” And, waiting 
for no reply, Ruth hurried in, filled a tankard with 
cider, and tripped away to bring her lover home, 
singing as she went, for Nat loved to hear her voice. 

Down the green lane toward the river the happy 
singer stepped, thinking in what sweet words she could 
give the old man’s message. But the song died on her 
and the smiling eyes grew wistful suddenly; for, 


174 


BY THE BIVEE. 


passing by the willow-trees, she saw the patient oxen 
standing in the field alone. 

“Nat is hunting violets for me,” she thought, with a 
throb of pleasure ; for she was jealous of a viewless rival, 
and valued every token of fidelity her lover gave her. 

But as she drew nearer Ruth frowned; for Nat lay 
beside the river, evidently quite forgetful of scolding, 
supper, and sweetheart. No, not of the latter; for a 
little nosegay of violets lay ready near the paper on 
which he seemed to be writing a song or sonnet to 
accompany the gift. 

Seeing this, the frown faded, as the girl stole noise- 
lessly across the grass, to peep over his shoulder, with 
a soft rebuke for his imprudence and delay. 

Alas for Ruth ! One glance at the placid face, pil- 
lowed on his arm, told her that this birthday was Nat’s 
last ; for the violets were less white than the cheek they 
touched, the pencil had fallen from nerveless fingers, and 
Death’s hand had written “ Finis ” to both life and lay. 
With a bitter cry, she gathered the weary head into her 
arms, fearing she had come too late to say good-by. 
But the eyes that opened were so tranquil, and the pale 
lips that answered wore such a happy smile, she felt 
that tears would mar his peace, and hushed her sobs, 
to listen as he whispered brokenly, with a glance that 
brightened as it turned from the wide field where his 
last hard day’s work lay finished, to the quiet river, 
whose lullaby was soothing him to sleep. 

“Tell Uncle I did not stop till the job was done, nor 
break my promise ; for the year is over now, and it was 
BO sweet to write again that I forgot to go home till it 
was too late.” 


BY TEE BIVEB. 


175 


“ O Nat, not too late. You shall work no more, 
but write all day, without a care. We have been too 
hard upon you, and you too patient with our blindness. 
Dear lad, forgive us, and come home to live a happier 
year than this has been,” cried Ruth, trying with re- 
morseful tenderness to keep the delicate spirit that was 
escaping from her hold, like the butterfly that died 
among her roses with broken wings. 

But Nat had no desire to stay ; for he was going home, 
to feel hunger, thirst, and weariness no more, to find a 
love Ruth could not give, and to change earth’s prose 
to heaven’s immortal poetry. Yet he lingered on the 
threshold to look back and whisper gently : “ It is 

better so, sweetheart. There was no place for me here, 
and I was homesick for my own friends and country. 
I’m going to find them, and I’m quite content. Forget 
me and be happy ; or remember me only in the spring- 
time, when the world is loveliest and my birthday 
comes. See, this is all I had to give you; but my 
heart was in it.” 

He tried to lift the unfinished song and give it to her ; 
but it fluttered down upon his breast, and the violets 
dropped after, lying there unstirred by any breath, for 
with the words a shadow deeper than that twilight laid 
upon the fields stole over the face on Ruth’s bosom, and 
all the glory of the sunset sky could only touch it with 
a pathetic peace, as the poet lay asleep beside the river. 

He lies there still, the legend says, under the low 
green mound, where violets bloom earliest, where the 
old willows drop their golden tassels in the spring, and 
blackbirds fill the air with their melodious ecstasy. No 
song of his lived after him ; no trace of him remains. 


176 


BY TEE RIVER. 


except that nameless grave ; and few .ever heard of one 
who came and went like the snow for which they chris- 
tened him. Yet it seems as if his gentle ghost still 
haunted those sunny meadows, still listened to the 
enchanted river, and touched with some mysterious 
charm the places that knew him once. For strangers 
find a soft attraction in the quiet landscape ; lovers seek 
those green solitudes to tell the story that is always 
new; and poets muse beside the shadowy stream, hear- 
ing, as he heard, a call to live the life that lifts them 
highest by unwavering fidelity to the gift Heaven 
sends. 


LETTY’S TRAMP. 


T ETTY sat on the doorstep one breezy summer day, 
looking down the road and wishing with all her 
heart that something pleasant would happen. She 
often did this ; and one of her earliest delights when a 
lonely child was to sit there with a fairy book upon her 
knee, waiting and watching in all good faith for some- 
thing wonderful to happen. 

In those days, Cinderella’s golden coach dashing 
round the corner to carry her away was the favorite 
dream ; but at eighteen one thinks more of the prince 
than either golden coach or splendid ball. But no 
prince as yet had cut his way through the grove of 
“ laylocks ” round the gate, and the little beauty still 
dreamed waking dreams on the doorstep, with her work 
forgotten in her lap. 

Behind her in the quaint, quiet room Aunt Liddy 
dozed in her easy chair, the clock ticked, the bird 
chirped, old Bran snapped lazily at the flies, and noth 
ing else broke the hush that brooded over the place. 
It was always so, and Letty often felt as if an earth- 
quake would be a blessed relief to the dreadful mo- 
notony of her life. 

To-day it was peculiarly trying, for a slight incident 
had ruflied the calm; and, though it lasted but a 
12 


178 


LETTTS TRAMl\ 


moment, it had given Letty a glimpse into that lovely 
“ new world which is the old.” A carriage containing a 
gay young couple on their honeymoon trip had stopped 
at the gate, for the bride had a fancy for a draught from 
the mossy well, and the bridegroom blandly demanded 
that her whim be gratified. 

Letty served them, and while one pretty girl slaked 
her thirst the other watched her with admiring eyes 
and a tender interest, touched by envy. It was all 
over in a minute. Then bonny bride and enamoured 
bridegroom rolled away on that enchanted journey 
which is taken but once in a lifetime, leaving a cloud 
of dust behind and a deeper discontent in Letty’s heart. 

With a long sigh she had gone back to her seat, and, 
closing her eyes upon a world that could oflTer her so 
little, fell a-dreaming again, till a rough voice startled 
her wide awake. 

“ I say, miss, can you give a poor fellow a bite and a 
sup?” 

Opening her eyes, she saw a sturdy tramp leaning 
over the low gate, so ragged, dusty, worn, and weary 
that she forgave the look of admiration in the bold 
black eyes which had been fixed on her longer than she 
knew. Before she could answer, however. Aunt Liddy, 
a hospitable old soul, called out from within, — 

“Certin, certin. Set right down on the doorstep 
and rest a spell, while we see what we can do abou^ 
vittles.” 

Letty vanished into the pantry, and the man thiew 
himself down in the shady porch, regardless of Bran’s 
suspicious growl. He pulled off his hat, stretched out 
his tired limbs, and leaned his rough head back among 


LETTY^S TBAMP. 


179 


ihu woodbine leaves, with a long breath, as if nearly 
spent. 

When Letty brought him a plate of bread and meat, 
ne took it from her so eagerly and with such a ravenous 
look that she shrank back involuntarily. Seeing which 
he said, with a poor attempt at a laugh, — 

“You needn’t be afraid. I look like a rough cus- 
tomer ; but I won’t hurt you. 

“Lawful sakes! We ain’t no call to be afraid of no 
one, though we be lone women ; for Bran is better’n a 
dozen men. A lamb to them he knows ; but let any 
one try to pester Letty, and I never see a fercer beast,” 
said Aunt Liddy, as the girl went back for more food, 
seeing the stranger’s need. 

“ He knows Tm all right, and makes friends at once, 
you see,” answered the tramp, with a satisfied nod, as 
Bran, after a brief investigation, sat down beside him, 
with a pacific wag of the tail. 

“ Well, I never ! He don’t often do that to strangers. 
Guess you’re fond of dumb critters,” said Aunt Liddy, 
much impressed by Bran’s unusual condescension. 

“ They’ve been my best friends, and I don’t forget it,” 
returned the man, giving the dog a bone, though half- 
starved himself. 

Something in the tone, the act, touched Letty’s 
tender heart, and made her own voice very sweet and 
cordial as she said, — 

“ Please have some milk. It’s nice and cold.” 

The tramp put up both hands to take the bowl, and 
as he did so looked into a face so full of compassion 
that it seemed like an angel’s leaning down to comfort 
a lost and weary soul. Hard as life had been to Ihs 


180 


LETTY'S TRAMP, 


poor fellow, it had not spoiled him yet, as was plainly 
proved by the change that softened his whole face like 
magic, and trembled in the voice that said, as if it were 
a sort of grace, “ God bless you. Miss,” as Le bent his 
head and drank. 

Only a look of human sympathy and human gratitude ; 
yet, ill the drawing of a breath, it cast out Letty’s fear, 
and made the stranger feel as if he had found friends, 
for it was the touch of Nature that makes the whole 
world kin. Every one seemed to feel its influence. 
Bran turned his benevolent eyes approvingly from his 
mistress to his new friend : the girl sat down confld- 
ingly ; and the old lady began to talk, for, being fond 
of chat, she considered a stranger as a special provi- 
dence. 

“ Where be you travellin’ ? ” 

“ Nowhere in particular.” 

“ Where did you come from, then ? ” continued Aunt 
Liddy, undaunted by the short answer. 

“ California.” 

“ Do tell ! Guess youVe been one of the rovin’ sort, 
ain’t you ? ” 

“ Haven’t done much else.” 

“ It don’t appear to have agreed with you remarkable 
>¥ell,” said the blunt old lady, peering at him over her 
spectacles. 

“ If I hadn’t had the devil’s own luck. I’d have been 
a rich man, instead of a beggar,” answered the tramp, 
with a grim look and an ireful knitting of his black 
brows. 

“ Been unfort’nate, have you ? I’m sorry for that ; but 
it ’pears to me them as stays to home and works stiddy 


LETTT^S tramp. 


181 


does better than them that goes huntin’ after luck,” otn 
served Aunt Liddy, feeling it her duty to give a word 
of advice. 

“ Shouldn’t wonder if you were right, ma’am. But 
some folks haven’t got any home to stay in ; and fellows 
of my sort have to hunt after luck, for it won’t come 
to ’em.” 

“ Ain’t you got no friends, young man ?” 

“ Not one. Lost the last yesterday.” 

“ Took suddin, I suppose ? ” and the old lady’s face 
was full of interest as she put the question. 

“ Drowned.” 

“ Merciful sakes ! How did it happen ? ” 

“Got hurt, couldn’t be cured, so I drowned him, 
and ” — 

“What!” shrieked Aunt Liddy, upsetting her foot- 
stool with a horrified start. 

“ Only a dog, ma’am. T couldn’t carry him, wouldn’t 
leave him to sufier ; so put him out of pain and came 
on alone.” 

The tramp had ceased eating, and sat with his head 
on his hand in a despondent attitude, that told his story 
better than words. His voice was grufier than ever as 
he spoke of his dog ; but the last word was husky, and 
he put his hand on Bran’s head with a touch that won 
the good creature’s heart entirely, and made him lick 
the downcast face, with a little whine of sympathy and 
satisfaction. 

Letty’s eyes were full, and Aunt Liddy took snuff 
and settled her footstool, feeling that something must 
be done for one who showed signs of being worth the 
saving. 


182 


LE TTY'S TRAMP. 


“ Poor creter ! Aud you was fond of him ? she said 
in a motherly tone ; for the man of five or six and 
twenty was but a boy to her. 

“ I’d have been a brute if I wasn’t fond of him, for he 
stuck to me when all the other fellows cut me, and tried 
to drag himself along with a broken leg, rathei than 
leave me. Talk about friends! Give me a dumb 
animal if you want one worth having.” 

A bitter tone was in the man’s voice and a wrathful 
spark kindled in his eyes, as if wrong as well as want 
had made him what he was. 

“ Rest a little, and tell us about California. A neigh- 
bor went there, and we like to hear news of that great, 
splendid place.” 

Letty spoke, and the half-eager, half-timid voice was 
very winning, especially to one who seldom heard such 
now. Seeing her kindly interest, and glad to pay for 
his meal in the only way he could, the man told some 
of his adventures in brief but graphic words, while the 
old woman plied him with questions and the young one 
listened with a face so full of pretty wonder that the 
story-teller was inspired to do his best. 

Aunt Liddy’s cap-frills stood erect with horror at 
some of the hair-breadth escapes recounted; but to 
Letty it was better than any romance she had ever 
read to listen to tales full of danger and hardship, 
told by a living voice and face to face with the chief 
actor in them all, who unconsciously betrayed that he 
possessed many of the manly attributes women most 
admire. 

“ After adventures like these, I don’t wonder it seems 
hard to settle down, as other folks do,” she said warmly. 


LETTrS TRAMP. 


183 


when the man stopped short, as if ashamed of talking 
so much of his own affairs. 

“ I wouldn’t mind trying it, though,” he answered, as 
he glanced about the sunny little room, so homelike 
and reposeful, and so haunted by all the sweet influences 
that touch men’s hearts when most forlorn. 

“You’d better,” said Aunt Liddy, decidedly. “Git 
work and stick to it ; and, if luck don’t come, bread and 
butter will, and in a world of woe mebby that’s about 
as much as any one on us ought to expect.” 

“ I have tried to get it. But I’m such a hard-looking 
chap no one wants me ; and I don’t blame ’em. Look 
at that hat, now ! Ain’t that enough to spoil a man’s 
chance, let alone his looks ? ” The young fellow held up 
a battered object with such a comical mixture of dis- 
gust and indignation that Letty could not help laugh- 
ing ; and the blithe sound was so contagious that the 
wanderer joined in it, cheered already by rest and food 
and kindly words. 

“ It’s singular what store men-folks do set by their 
hats. My Moses couldn’t never read his paper till he’d 
put on his’n, and as for drivin’ a nail bare-headed, in 
doors or out, he’d never think of such a thing,” said 
Aunt Liddy, with the air of one well versed in the 
mysterious ways of men-folks. 

But Letty clapped her hands, as if a brilliant idea 
had flashed upon her, and, running to the back entry 
returned with a straw hat, brown and dusty, but shady, 
whole, and far more appropriate to the season than the 
ragged felt the man was eying hopelessly. 

“ It isn’t very good ; but it might do for a time. 
We only keep it to scare folks, and I don’t feel afraid 


184 


LETT! S TRAMP, 


now. Would you mind if I gave it to you?” stain* 
mered Letty, coloring up, as she tried to offer her poof 
gift courteously. 

“ Mind ! I guess I’d be glad to get it, fit or no fit,” 
and, dropping the old hat, the tramp clapped on the new 
one, making his mirror of the bright eyes before him. 

“ It does nicely, and you’re very welcome,” said the 
girl, getting rosier still, for there was something beside 
gratitude in the brown face that had lost the dogged, 
dangerous look it wore at first. 

“ Now, if you was to wash up and smooth that hair 
of yourn a trifle, you’d be a likely-looking young man ; 
and, if you’re civil-spoken and willin’ to lend a hand 
anywheres, you’ll git work, I ain’t a doubt,” observed 
Aunt Liddy, feeling a growing interest in the wayfarer, 
and, womanlike, acknowledging the necessity of putting 
the best foot foremost. 

Letty ran for basin and towel, and, pointing to the 
well, modestly retired into the kitchen, while Aunt 
Liddy watched the vigorous scrubbing that went on in 
the yard ; for the tramp splashed the water about like 
a Newfoundland dog, and Bran assisted at the brief 
toilet with hospitable zeal. 

It seemed as if a different man came out from that 
simple baptism; for the haggard cheek had a glow 
upon it, the eyes had lost their hopelessness, and some- 
thing like courage and self-respect shone in the face 
that looked in at the door as the stranger gave back 
basin and towel, saying, with a wave of the old straw 
hat, — 

“I’m heartily obliged, ma’am. Would you kindly 
tell me how far it is to the next big town?” 


LETTY'S TRAMP. 


185 


“Twenty miles. The cars will take you right there, 
and the deepo ain’t fur,” answered Aunt Liddy, show- 
ing the way. 

The man glanced at his ragged shoes, then squared 
his broad shoulders, as if bracing himself for the twenty 
long hot miles that his weary feet must carry him, since 
his pockets were empty, and he could not bring him- 
self to ask for any thing but food enough to keep life 
in him. 

“ Good-by, ma’am, and God bless you.” And, slouch- 
ing the hat over his eyes, he limped away, escorted to 
the gate by Bran. 

At the turn of the road he stopped and looked back 
as wistfhlly as ever Letty had done along the shadowy 
road, and as he looked it seemed as if he saw a you iger 
self setting off with courage, hope, and energy upon 
the journey, which alas! had ended here. His eye 
went to the old well, as if there had been some heal- 
ing in its water; then turned to the porch, where he 
had been fed and comforted, and lingered there as if 
some kindly memory warmed his solitary heart. 

Just then a little figure in blue gingham ran out and 
came fluttering after him, accompanied by Bran, in a 
state of riotous delight. Rosy and breathless, Letty 
hurried to him, and, looking up with a face full of the 
innocent compassion that never can offend, she said, 
offering a parcel neatly folded up, — 

“ Aunt Liddy sends you some dinner ; and this, so 
that you needn’t walk, unless you like, you are so lame.” 

As if more touched than he cared to show, the man 
took the food, but gently put away the little roll oi 
greenbacks, saying quickly, — 


186 


LETTrS TRAMP. 


“ Thank you for this ; but I can’t take your money ^ 

“We ain’t rich, but we love to help folks. So yo 
needn’t be proud about it.” And Letty looked ruffled 
at his refusal. 

“ I’ll take something else, if you don’t mind,” said 
the tramp, pulling off his hat, with a sudden smile that 
made his face look young and comely. 

“ What is it ? ” And Letty looked up so innocently 
that it was impossible to resist the impulse of a grate 
ful heart. 

His answer was to stoop and kiss the blooming 
cheek, that instantly grew scarlet with girlish shame 
and anger as she turned to fly. Catching her by the 
hand, he said penitently, — 

“ I couldn’t help it, you’re so good to me. Don’t 
begrudge me a kiss for luck. I need it, God knows ! ” 

The man’s real destitution and despair broke out in 
these words, and he grasped the little hand as if it was 
the only thing that kept him from the manifold temp- 
tations of a desperate mood. 

It thrilled the girl like a cry for help, and made her 
forget every thing except that a fellow-creature suffered. 
She shook the big hand warmly, and said, with all her 
heart, — 

“ You’re welcome, if it helps you. Good-by and good 
luck to you ! ” and ran away as fast as she had come. 

The man stood motionless, and watched her till she 
vanished, then turned and tramped sturdily on, mut- 
tering to himself, with a suspicious gruffness in his 
voice, — 

“ If I had a little mate like that alongside, I know 
my luck would turn.” 


LETTT'S TBAMP, 


187 


CHAPTER II. 

A WILD December night, with bitter wind and blind- 
ing snow, reigned outside the long, rude building, 
lighted only by furnace fires, that went roaring up the 
tall chimneys, whence poured clouds of smoke and 
showers of sparks, like beacons through the storm. 
No living thing appeared in that shadowy place except 
a matronly gray cat, sitting bolt upright upon an old 
rug spread over a heap of sand near one of the fires 
A newspaper and a tin pail were beside her, and she 
seemed to have mounted guard, while the watchman 
of the Foundry went his rounds. 

A door stood half-open upon the sheltered side of 
the building; and suddenly, as if blown thither like 
a storm-driven bird, a little figure came fluttering in, 
breathless, half-fi-ozen, and quite bewildered by a long 
struggle with the pitiless gale. Feebly brushing away 
the snow that blinded her, the poor thing looked about 
her with frightened eyes ; and, seeing no one but tho 
cat, seemed to take courage and crept toward the fire, 
as if suffering for the moment conquered fear. 

“Oh! Pussy, let me warm myself one minute, for 
Pm perished with the cold,” she whispered, stretching 
two benumbed hands to the blaze. 

The cat opened her yellow eyes, and, evidently glad 
to meet one of her own sex, began to purr hospitably 
as she rustled across the newspaper to greet her guest. 
There was something inexpressibly comforting in the 
sound ; and, reas.sured by it, the girl pushed back her 


188 


LE TTY'S TRAMF. 


drenched hat, shook her snowy garments, and drew a 
long breath, like one nearly spent. Yet, even while she 
basked in the warmth that was salvation, her timid eyes 
glanced about the great, gloomy place, and her attitude 
was that of one ready to fly at a moment’s warning. 

Presently a step sounded on a flight of stairs leading 
to some loft above The wanderer started like a hare, 
and, drawing nearer to the door, paused as if to catch a 
glimpse of the approaching face before she fled away 
into the storm, that howled just then with a violence 
which might well daunt a stouter heart. 

A tall man, in a rough coat, with grizzled hair and 
beard under an old fur cap, came slowly down the 
steps, whistling softly to himself, as he swung his lantern 
to and fro. 

“ An old man, and the cat is fond of him. I guess 
I’ll dare to ask my way, or I’ll never get home,” thought 
the girl, as her eye scanned the new-comer with a 
woman’s quickness. 

An involuntary rustle of her dress caught his ear, 
and, lifting the lantern, he saw her at once ; but did 
not speak, as if afraid of frightening her still more, for 
her pale face and the appealing gesture of the out- 
stretched hand told her fear and need better than her 
hurried words, — 

“ Oh ! please, I’ve lost my way and am nearly frozen. 
Could I warm myself a bit and find out where I am ? ” 

“Of course, you may. Why, bless your heart, I 
wouldn’t turn a dog out such a night as this, much less 
a poor little soul like you,” answered the man, in a 
hearty tone, that rang true on the listening ear of the 
girl. 


LETTY^S TRAMP. 


189 


Then he hung up the lantern, put a stool nearer the 
fire, and beckoned her to approach. But even the 
kindly words and act failed to win the timid creature ; 
for she drew back as he advanced, gave a glance at the 
door, and said, as if appealing to the best instincts of 
the man, whom she longed yet feared to trust, — 

“ Thank you ; but it’s getting late, and I ought to be 
getting on, if I knew the way. Perhaps you’ve got 
some girls of your own, so you can understand how 
scared I am to be lost at night and in such a strange 
place as this.” 

The man stared, then laughed, and, shaking the snow 
from his curly hair and beard, showed himself to be a 
young and pleasant-looking fellow, with a merry eye, 
an honest brown face, and a hearty voice. 

“ You thought I was an old chap, did you? Wish I 
was, if it would be any comfort to you. I’ve got no 
little girls, neither, more’s the pity ; but you needn’t 
be afraid of me, though it is late and lonely. Why, 
Lord love you, child, I’m not a brute ! Sit down and 
thaw out, while you tell me where you want to go.” 

The half-indignant tone of the man made his guest 
feel as if she had insulted him ; and she obeyed with 
a docility which appeased his anger at once. Seating 
herself upon the stool, she leaned toward the fire with 
an irrepressible shiver, and tried to keep her teeth from 
chattering as she told her little story. 

“ I want work badly, and went a long way, hoping 
to get some. But I didn’t find it, and that discouraged 
me very much. I had no money, so had to walk, and 
the storm got so bad I lost my way. Then I was 
geared and half-frozen, and so bewildered I think I’d 


190 


LETTY'S TRAMP. 


have died if I hadn’t seen the light and come in 
here.” 

“ I guess you would. And the best thing you can 
do now is to stop till the storm lifts. Shouldn’t wonder 
if it did about midnight,” said the man, stirring up 
the red embers, as if anxious to do something for her 
comfort. 

“ But that is so late, and I must be ever so far away 
from home ; for I came over the wrong bridge. Oh, 
me ! What shall I do ? ” And the poor thing wrung 
her hands in dismay. 

“ Won’t your folks go to look for you? ” 

“ I haven’t any one in the world to care for mo. 
The woman where I board won’t trouble herself; or 
she’ll think I’ve run away, because I owe her money. 
I might be dead in the river, and no one would 
mind ! ” sighed the girl, leaning her head on her hands, 
while some bright, dishevelled hair fell over her face, as 
if to hide its youth and innocence from a world that 
seemed to have no shelter for either. 

“That’s hard! But don’t you be down-hearted, 
child. Things often mend when they seem worst. I 
know ; for I’ve been through the mill, and had friends 
raised up to me when I’d about done with living, as a 
bad job. I can’t leave here till sunrise ; but I’ll do the 
best I can for you till then. Sam will be along early, 
and he’ll see to you, if you can’t trust me ; for he is as 
gray as a badger, and he’s got six girls of his own, if 
that’s a recommendation. I’ve got nothing but a cat ; 
and she trusts me. Don’t you, old Sally ? ” 

As he spoke, the man sat down upon the sand-heap, 
and Sally leaped to his knee, rubbing her head against 


LETTY^S TBAMP. 


191 


his cheek, with a soft sound of confidence and content- 
ment which seemed to afford her friend great satisfac- 
tion. The girl smiled faintly, and said, in an apologetic 
tone, for there had been something like reproach in the 
man’s voice, as he asked the dumb animal to vouch foi 
his character, — 

“ I don’t believe I’d have dared to come in here if I 
hadn’t seen Pussy. But I thought any one who was 
good to her would be good to me ; and now I’m sure 
of it.” 

“That’s right. You see, I’m a lonesome sort of a 
chap and like something to pet. So I took old Sally, 
and we get on capitally. She won’t let the other fellows 
touch her, but always comes and sits with me when 1 
am alone here nights. And it’s surprising what good 
company she is.” 

He laughed as he spoke, as if half-ashamed of the ami- 
able weakness, yet anxious to put his guest at her ease. 
He evidently succeeded ; for she stretched two shabby 
little boots toward the fire and leaned her head against 
a grimy beam, saying, with a sigh of weariness, — 

“ It is very comfortable ; but the heat makes me feel 
queer and dizzy.” 

“You’re just about used up; and I’m going to give 
you a sup of hot coffee. That’ll bring you round in a 
jifly. It’s time for supper. Hey, Sally?” 

As he spoke, the man set his pail in the hot ashes, 
unfolded a parcel of bread and meat, and, laying a rude 
sandwich on a clean bit of paper, offered it with a hos- 
pitable — 

“ Have a bit. Do, now. You’ve had a hard pull and 
need something to set you up.” 


192 


LETTrS TRAMP. 


Leaning forv^ard to give and take, two faces came 
into the clear red glow of the furnace-fire, and a look 
of recognition flashed into each so suddenly that it 
startled both man and maid into involuntary frankness 
of expression. 

“ Why, it’s little Letty ! ” 

“ And you are my tramp ! ” 

A change so rapid as to be almost ludicrous came 
over the pair in the drawing of a breath. She smoothed 
back her hair and hid the shabby boots, yet sat more 
erect upon the stool, as if she had a right there and felt 
no longer any fear. He pulled ofi* his cap, with a pleas- 
ant mixture of respect, surprise, and satisfaction in his 
manner, as he said, in a half-proud, half-humble tone, — 

“No, miss; for, thanks to you. I’m a decent man 
now.” 

“ Then you did find work and get on ? ” she exclaimed, 
with a bright, wistful look, that touched him very 
much. 

“ Didn’t you get my letter ? ” he asked eagerly. “ I 
sent you the first dollar I earned, and told you and the 
old lady I was all right.” 

Letty shook her head, and all the light passed out of 
her face, leaving it pathetic in its patient sorrow. 

“ Aunt Liddy died a week after you were there, so 
suddenly that every thing was in confusion, and I never 
got the letter. I wish she had known of it, because it 
would have pleased her so. We often talked about 
you and hoped you’d do well. We led such quiet 
lives, you see, that any little thing interested us for a 
long time.” 

“ It was a little thing to you, I dare say ; but it was 


LETTY^S TRAMP. 


193 


salvation to me. Not the money or the food only, but 
the kindness of the old lady, and — and the look in your 
sweet face, miss. I’d got so far down, through sickness 
and bad luck, that there didn’t seem any thing left for 
me but deviltry or death. That day it was a toss-up 
between any bad job that came along first and drown* 
ing, like my dog. That seemed sort of mean, though, 
and I felt more like being revenged somehow on the 
world, that had been so hard on me.” 

He stopped short, breathing hard, with a sudden 
spark in his black eyes and a nervous clenching of the 
strong hands that made Letty shrink ; for he seemed to 
speak in spite of himself, as if the memory of that time 
had left its impress on his life. 

“But you didn’t do any thing bad. I’m sure you 
didn’t ; for Aunt Liddy said there was the making of a 
man in you, because you were so quick to feel a little 
bit of kindness and take good advice.” 

The soft, eager voice of the girl seemed to work the 
miracle anew, for a smile broke over his face, the angry 
spark was quenched, and the clenched hand opened to 
offer again all it had to give, as he said, with a charac- 
teristic mingling of fun and feeling in his voice, — 

“ I don’t know much about angels ; but I felt as if I’d 
met a couple that day, for they saved me from destruc- 
tion. You cast your bread upon the waters, and it’s 
come back when, maybe, you need it ’most as much as 
I did then. ’Tisn’t half as nice as yours ; but perhaps 
a blessing will do as well as butter.” 

Letty took the brown bread, feeling that he had said 
the best grace over it; and while she ate he talked, 
evidently moved to open his heart by the memory of 
13 


194 


LE TTY'S TRAMP. 


the past, and eager to show that he had manfully per< 
eisted in the well-doing his angels had advised. 

“ That was nearly two years ago, you know, and I’ve 
been hard at it ever since. I took any thing that come 
along, and was glad to get it. The hat did that, I firmly 
believe.” And he laughed a short laugh, adding soberly, 
“ But I didn’t take to work at first, for I’d been a 
rover and liked it ; so it took a long pull and a strong 
pull and a pull all together before I settled down steady. 
The hat and the ” — he was going to say “ kiss ; ” but a 
look at the lonely little creature sitting there so con- 
fidingly made him change the word to — “the money 
seemed to bring me luck ; and I followed the advice of the 
good old lady, and stuck to my work till I got to liking it. 
I’ve been here more than a year now, and am getting on 
so well I shall be overseer before long. I’m only watch- 
man for a short time. Old Sam has been sick, and they 
wanted some one they could trust, so they chose me.” 

It was good to see him square his broad shoulders 
and throw back his head as he said that ; and pretty to 
see Letty nod and smile with sincerest pleasure in his 
success, as she said, — 

“ It looks dark and ugly now ; but I’ve seen a foundry 
when they were casting, and it was splendid to watch 
the men manage the furnaces and do wonderful things 
with great hammers and moulds and buckets of red-hot 
melted iron. I like to know you do such things, and 
now I’m not afraid. It seems sort of romantic and 
grand to work in this place, where every one must be 
strong and brave and skilful to get on.” 

“ That’s it. That’s why I like it ; don’t you see ? ” 
he answered, brightening with pleasure at her artless 


LE TTY'S TRAMP. 


195 


praise. “ You just come some casting day, and I’ll show 
you sights you won’t forget in a hurry. If there 
wasn’t danger and noise and good hard work wrastling 
with fire and iron, and keeping a rough set of fellows 
in order, I shouldn’t stay ; for the restless fit comes on 
sometimes, and I feel as if I must cut away somewhere. 
Born so, and can’t help it. Maybe I could, if I had 
something to anchor me; but, as you say, ‘Nobody 
would care much if I was in the river,’ and that’s bad 
for a chap like me.” 

“ Sally would care,” said the girl, quite soberly ; for 
she sympathized now with the man’s loneliness as she 
could not have done two years ago. 

“ So she would ; but I’ll take her with me when I 
leave — not for the river, mind you. I’m in no danger 
of that nonsense now. But, if I go on a tramp (and I 
may, if the fit gets too strong for me), she shall go too; 
and we’ll be Dick Whittington and his cat over again.” 

He spoke in a devil-may-care tone, and patted the 
plump Tabby with a curious mixture of boyish reck- 
lessness and a man’s sad knowledge of life in his face. 

“ Don’t go,” pleaded Letty, feeling that she had a 
jertain responsibility in the matter. “ I should mind, 
IS well as Sally ; for, if Aunt Liddy and I helped put 
you in a good way, it would be a disappointment to 
have you go wrong. Please stop here, and I’ll try and 
come to see you work some day, if I can get time. 
I’m likely to have plenty of it, I’m afraid.” 

She began eagerly, but ended with a despondent 
droop of the whole figure, that made her new friend 
forget himself in interest for her. 

“I’ll stop, honor bright. And you come and look 


196 


LETTY^S TRAMP. 


after me now and then. That’ll keep me steady. See 
if it don’t. But tell me how you are getting on ? 
Little down on your luck just now, I guess? Come, 
I’ve told my story, you tell yours, and maybe I can 
lend a hand. I owe you a good turn, you know ; and 
I’m one that likes to pay his debts, if he can.” 

“ You did pay yours ; but I never got the letter, for 
I came away after Aunty died. You see I wasn’t her 
own niece, — only sort of a distant relation ; and she 
took me because my own people were gone. Her son 
had all she left, — it wasn’t much ; and she told him to 
be good to me. But I soon saw that I was a burden, 
and couldn’t bear to stay. So I went away, to take 
care of myself. I liked it at first; but this winter, 
times are so hard and work so scarce, I don’t get on 
at all.” 

“ What do you do, miss ? ” asked Whittington, with 
added respect ; because in her shabby dress and altered 
face he read the story of a struggle Letty was too 
proud to tell. 

“ I sew,” she answered briefly, smoothing out her wet 
shawl with a hand so thin and small it was pathetic to 
see, when one remembered that nothing but a needle 
in those slender fingers kept want and sin at bay. 

The kindly fellow seemed to feel that ; and, as his 
eye went from his own strong right arm to the sledge^ 
hammer it often swung, the instinct of protection so 
keen in manly men made him long to stand between 
poor Letty and the hard world he knew so well. The 
magnetism of sympathy irresistibly attracted iron to 
steel, while little needle felt assured that big hammer 
would be able to beat down many of the obstacles 


LETTT^S TRAMP, 


197 


which now seemed insurmountable, if she only dared 
to ask for aid. But help came without the asking. 

“Been aftei work, you say? Why, we could give 
you heaps of it, if you don’t mind it’s being coarse and 
plain. This sort of thing, you know,” touching his red 
shirt with a business-like air. “ Our men use ’em alto- 
gether, and like ’em strong in the seams. Some ain’t, 
and buttons fly ofl* just looking at ’em. That makes a 
fellow mad, and swearing comes easy.” 

But Letty shook her head, though she couldn’t heip 
smiling at his sober way of explaining the case and its 
sad consequences. 

“ I’ve tried that work, and it doesn’t pay. Six cents 
for a shirt, and sometimes only four, isn’t enough to earn 
one’s board and clothes and Are, even if one made half 
a dozen a day. You can’t get them for that, and some- 
body grows rich while we starve. 

“ Hanged if I ever buy another ! See here, you make 
me enough for a year, and we’ll have a fair bargain 
between us. That is, if you can’t do better and don’t 
mind,” he added, suddenly abating his warmth and 
looking almost bashful over the well-meant proposal. 

“ I’d love to do it. Only you mustn’t pay too much,” 
said Letty, glad of any thing to keep her hands and 
thoughts busy, for life was very bare and cold just 
then. 

“ All right. I’ll see to it directly, and nobody be the 
wiser,” returned her new employer, privately resolving 
to order a bale of red flannel on the morrow, and pay 
fabulous prices for the work of the little friend who had 
once kept him from worse than starvation. 

It was not much to ofler, and red flannel was not a 


198 


LETTY'S TRAMP. 




romantic subject of conversation ; but something in the 
prompt relief and the hearty good-will of the man went 
to Letty’s heart, already full to overflowing with many 
cares and troubles. She tried to thank him, but could 
only cover up her face and sob. It was so sweet and 
comfortable to find any one who cared enough for her 
to lift her out of the slough of despond, which was to 
her as dangerous a mood as the desperate one he had 
known. There were hands enough to beckon the win- 
some creature to the wrong side of the quagmire, where 
so many miss the stepping-stones ; but she felt that this 
was the right side, and the hand an honest one, though 
rough and grimy with hard work. So the tears were 
glad and grateful tears, and she let them flow, melting 
the fatal frost that had chilled her hope and faith in 
God and man. 

But the causer of them could not bear the sight, for 
the contrast between this forlorn girl and the blithe, 
blooming Letty of that memorable day was piteous. 
Manlike, he tried to express his sympathy in deeds as 
well as words, and, hastily filling a tin cup from the 
coflfee-can, pressed it upon her with a fatherly stroke of 
the bent head and a soothing, — 

“ Now, my dear, just take a sip of this, and don’t cry 
any more. We’ll straighten things out. So cheer up, 
and let me lend a hand anywhere, anyhow.” 

But hunger and fear, weariness and cold, had been 
too much for poor Letty ; and, in the act of lifting up 
her wet face to thank him, the light left her eyes, and 
she would have slipped to the ground, if he had not 
caught her. 

In a minute she was herself again, lying on the old 


LETTrS TRAMP. 


199 


rng, with snow upon her forehead and some one fanning 
her with a newspaper. 

“ I thought I was going to die,” she whispered, look- 
ing about her in a dazed sort of way. 

“Not a bit of it! You’re going to sleep. That’s 
what you want, and old Sally’s going to sit by while 
you do it. It’s a hardish pillow ; but I’ve put my hand- 
kerchief over it, and, being Monday, its spick-and-span 
clean.” 

Letty smiled as she turned her cheek to the faded 
silk handkerchief laid over the rolled-up coat under her 
head, for Pussy was nestling close beside her, as if her 
presence was both a comfort and defence. Yet the 
girl’s eyes filled even while she smiled, for, when most 
desolate, a friend had been raised up to her ; and, though 
the face bending over her was dark and shaggy, there 
was no fear in her own, as she said half-appealingly, 
half-coiifidingly, — 

“ I don’t believe I could go if I tried, I’m so worn out. 
But you’ll take care of me, and in the morning show 
me the way home ? ” 

“ Please God, I will ! ” he answered, as solemnly as if 
taking an oath, adding, as he stepped back to the stool 
she had left: “I shall stay here and read my paper. 
Nothing shall scare you; so make yourself comfortable, 
and drop off with an easy mind.” 

Sitting there, he saw her lay her hands together, as 
if she said some little prayer; then, turning her face 
from the light, she fell asleep, lulled by the drowsy 
purr of the humble friend to whom she clung even in 
her dreams. He only looked a minute, for something 
that was neither the shimmer of firelight nor the glitter 


200 


LETTY'S TRAMP, 


of snow-dust made the quiet group dance mistily before 
his eyes ; and, forgetting his paper, he fell to drying 
Letty’s hat. 

It was both comical and pleasant to see how tenderly 
he touched the battered thing, with what interest he 
surveyed it, perched on his big hand, and how carefully 
he smoothed out the ribbons, evidently much bewildered 
as to which was the front and which the back. Giving 
up the puzzle, he hung it on the handle of the great 
hammer, and, leaning his chin on his hand, began to 
build castles in the air and watch the red embers, as if 
he saw in them some vision of the future that was very 
pleasant. 

Hour after hour struck from the city clocks across 
the river ; the lantern burned itself out, untrimmed ; the 
storm died away ; and a soft, white silence followed the 
turmoil of the night. Still Letty slept like a tired child 
still old Sally, faithful to her trust, lay in the circle ot 
the girl’s arm ; and still the watchman sat before the 
fire, dreaming waking dreams, as he had often done 
before ; but never any half so earnest, sweet, and hope- 
ful as those that seemed to weave a tender romance 
about the innocent sleeper, to whom he was loyally 
paying a debt of gratitude with such poor hospitality 
as he could show. 

Dawn came up rosy and clear along the east ; and the 
first level ray of wintry sunlight, as it struck across the 
foundry walls, fell on Letty’s placid face, with the bright 
hair shining like a halo round it. , 

Feeling very much as if he had entertained an angel 
unaware, the man stood enjoying the pretty picture, 
hesitating to wake her, yet fearing that a gruff hallo 


LETTT'S TBAMP, 


201 


from old Sam might do it too suddenly. Somehow he 
hated to have her go ; for the gloomy foundry seemed 
an enchanted sort of place this morning, with a purer 
heaven and earth outside, and within the “ little mate ” 
whom he felt a strong desire to keep “ always along- 
side,” for something better than luck’s sake. 

He was smiling to himself over the thought, yet half 
ashamed to own how it had grown and strengthened in 
a night, when Letty opened wide a pair of eyes full of the 
peace sleep brings and the soft lustre that comes after 
tears. Involuntarily the man drew back, and waited 
silently for her to speak. She looked bewildered for a 
moment, then remembered, and sprang up, full of the 
relief and fresh gratitude that came with her first wak 
ing thought. 

“ How long I’ve slept I How very kind you were to 
me 1 I can go now, if you will start me right.” 

“You are heartily welcome! I can take you home 
at once, unless you’d rather wait for Sam,” he answered, 
with a quick look toward the door, as if already jealous 
of the venerable Samuel. 

“ I’d rather go before any one comes. But perhaps 
you ought not to leave yet ? I wouldn’t like to take 
you from your duty,” began Letty, looking about her 
for her hat. 

“ Duty be — hanged ! I’m going to see you safe home, 
if you’ll let me. Here’s your hat. I dried it ; but it 
don’t look quite shipshape somehow.” And taking the 
shabby little object from the nail where it hung, he 
presented it with such respectful care that a glimmer 
of the old mirthfulness came into Letty’s face, as she 
said, surveying it with much disfavor, — 


202 


LETTT^S TBAKP, 


“ It is almost as bad as the one I gave you ; but it 
must do.” 

“ I’ve got that old thing up at my place now. Keep 
it for luck. Wish I had one for you. Hold on ! Here's 
a tippet — nice and warm. Have it for a hood. You’ll 
find it cold outside.’ 

He was so intent on making her comfortable that 
Letty could not refuse, and tied on the tippet, while he 
refilled the cup with hot coffee, carefully saved for her 

“ Little Red Riding Hood ! Blest if you ain’t ! ” 
he exclaimed admiringly, as he turned to her again, 
and saw the sweet face in its new head-gear. 

“ But you are not the wolf,” she answered, with a smile 
like sunshine, bending to drink from the cup he held. 

As she lifted her head, the blue eyes and the black 
exchanged again the subtle glance of sympathy that 
made them friends before ; only now the blue ones 
looked up full of gratitude, and the black ones looked 
down soft with pity. Neither spoke ; but Letty stooped, 
and, gathering old Sally in her arms, kissed the friendly 
creature, then followed her guide to the door. 

“ How beautiful ! ” she cried, as the sun came dazzling 
down upon the snow, that hid all dark and ugly things 
with a veil of purity. 

“Looks kind of bridal, don’t it?” saia the man, 
taking a long breath of the frosty air, and straightening 
himself up, as if anxious to look his best by daylight. 

He never had looked better, in spite of the old coat 
and red shirt; for the glow of the furnace-fire still 
seemed to touch his brown face, the happy visions ol 
the night still shone in his eyes, and the protective 
kindliness of a generous nature gave dignity to the 


LETTY'S TRAMP. 


203 


Tough figure, as he strode into the snow and stretched 
his hand to Letty, saying cheerily, — 

“Pretty deep, but hold on to me, and I’ll get 
you through. Better take my hand; I washed it 
a-purpose.” 

Letty did take it in both her little ones ; and they went 
away together through the deserted streets, feeling as if 
they were the only pair alive in the still white world 
that looked so lovely in the early sunshine. 

The girl was surprised to find how short the way 
seemed ; for, in spite of drifts, she got on bravely, with 
a strong arm to help and a friendly voice to encourage 
her. Yet when she reached the last corner she stopped, 
and said, with a sudden shyness which he understood 
and liked, — 

“ I’d best go on alone now. But I’m very grateful 
to you ! Please tell me your name. I’d love to k ,ow 
who my friend is, though I never shall forged ria 
kindness.” 

“Nor I yours. Joe Stone is my name. Bu' I’d 
rather you called me your tramp till we get something 
better,” he answ*ered, with a laugh in his eyes, as he 
bent toward her for a hearty shake of the slender hand 
that had grown warm in his. 

“I willl Good-by, good-by!” And, suddenly re- 
membering how they parted before, Letty blushed 
like a rose, and ran away as fast as the drifts would 
let her. 

“ And I’ll call you my Letty some day, if I’m not 
much mistaken,” Joe said to himself, with a decided 
nod, as he went back to the foundry, feeling that the 
world looked more “ sort of bridal ” than ever 


204 


LETTrS TRAMP. 


He was not mistaken ; for, when spring budded, hii 
dream came true, and in the little sewing-girl, who 
bound him with a silken thread so soft and strong it 
never broke, he found an anchor that held him fast to 
happiness and home. To Letty something wonderful 
happened at last. The prince came when most she 
needed him ; and, though even when the beggar’s rags 
fell off his only crown was the old hat, his royal robes 
red flannel and fustian, his sceptre a sledge-hammer, 
she knew and loved him, for 

“ The man was a man for a’ that." 


SCARLET STOCKINGS. 


CHAPTER 1. 

HOW THEY WALKED INTO LENNOX'S LIFS 

** /^OME out for a drive, Harry ? ” 

^ “ Too cold.” 

“ Have a game of billiards ? ” 

“ Too tired.” 

“ Go and call on the Fairchilds ? ” 

“Having an unfortunate prejudice against country 
girls, I respectfully decline.” 

“ What will you do, then ? ” 

“Nothing, thank you.” 

And, settling himself more luxuriously upon the 
couch, Lennox closed his eyes, and appeared to slum- 
ber tranquilly. Kate shook her head, and stood re- 
garding her brother despondently, till a sudden idea 
made her turn toward the window, exclaiming ab- 
ruptly,— 

“ Scarlet stockings, Harry ! ” 

“ Where ? ” and, as if the words were a spell to break 
tlie deepest day-dream, Lennox hurried to the window, 
with an unusual expression of interest in his listless 
face. 

“ I thought that would succeed 1 She isn’t there, but 


206 


SCARLET STOCKINGS. 


I’ve got you up, and you are not to go down again,” 
laughed Kate, taking possession of the sofa. 

“Kot a bad manoeuvre. I don’t mind: it’s about 
time for the one interesting event of the day to occur, 
80 I’ll watch for myself, thank you,” and Lennox took 
the easy chair by the window with a shrug and a yawn. 

“ I’m glad any thing does interest you,” said Kate, 
petulantly. “ I don’t think it amounts to much, for, 
though you perch yourself at the window every day 
to see that girl pass, you don’t care enough about it to 
ask her name.” 

“ I’ve been waiting to be told.” 

“ It’s Belle Morgan, the doctor’s daughter, and my 
dearest fi’iend.” 

“ Then, of course, she is a blue-belle ? ” 

“Don’t try to be witty or sarcastic with her, for she 
will beat you at that.” 

“Kot a dumb-belle, then?” 

“ Quite the reverse : she talks a good deal, and very 
well, too, when she likes.” 

“ She is very pretty : has anybody the right to call 
her ‘ Ma belle ’ ? ” 

“ Many would be glad to do so, but she won’t have 
any thing to say to them.” 

“A Canterbury belle, in every sense of the word, 
^hen?” 

“ She might be, for all Canterbury loves her ; but she 
isn’t fashionable, and has more friends among the poor 
than among the rich.” 

“Ah, I see, a diving-bell, who knows how to go 
down into a sea of troubles, and bring up the pearls 
worth having.” 


BOW THEY WALKED, ETC. 


207 


“ ni tell her that, it will please her. You are really 
waking up, Harry,” and Kate smiled approvingly upon 
him. 

“This page of ‘Belle’s Life’ is rather amusing, so 
read away,” said Lennox, glancing up the street, as if 
he awaited the appearance of the next edition with 
pleasure. 

“ There isn’t much to tell ; she is a nice, bright, en- 
ergetic, warm-hearted dear; the pride of the loctor’s 
heart, and a favorite with every one, though she is 
odd.” 

“ How odd?” 

“Does and says what she likes, is very blunt and 
honest, has ideas and principles of her own, goes to 
parties in high dresses, won’t dance round dances, and 
wears red stockings, though Mrs. Plantagenet says it’s 
fast.” 

“ Rather a jolly little person, I fancy. Why haven’t 
we met her at some of the tea-fights and muffin-worries 
we’ve been to lately ? ” 

“ It may make you angry, but it will do you good, 
so I’ll tell. She didn’t care enough about seeing the 
distinguished stranger to come ; that’s the truth.” 

“ Sensible girl, to spare herself hours of mortal dul- 
ness, gossip, and dyspepsia,” was the placid reply. 

“She has seen you, though, at church, and dawdling 
about town, and she called you ‘ Sir Charles Cold- 
stream,’ on the spot. How does that suit?” asked 
Kate, maliciously. 

“Not bad ; I rather like that. Wish she’d call some 
day, and stir us up.” 

“ She won’t ; I asked her, but she said she was very 


208 


SCARLET STOCKINGS. 


busy, and told Jessy Tudor she wasn’t fond of pea- 
cocks.” 

“ I don’t exactly see the connection.” 

“ Stupid boy ! she meant you, of course.” 

“ Oh, I’m peacocks, am I ? ” 

“ I don’t wish to be rude, but I really do think you 
are vain of your good looks, elegant accomplishments, 
and the impression you make wherever you go. When 
it’s worth while, you exert yourself, and are altogether 
fascinating; but the ‘I come-see-and-conquer ’ air you 
put on spoils it all for sensible people.” 

“ It strikes me that Miss Morgan has slightly infected 
you with her oddity, as far as bluntness goes. Fire 
away! it’s rather amusing to be abused when one is 
dying of ennui.” 

“ That’s grateful and complimentary to me, when 1 
have devoted myself to you ever since you came. But 
every thing bores you, and the only sign of interest 
you’ve shown is in those absurd red hose. I should 
like to know what the charm is,” said Kate, sharply. 

“ Impossible to say ; accept the fact calmly as I do, 
and be grateful that there is one glimpse of color, life, 
and spirit in this aristocratic tomb of a town.” 

“You are not obliged to stay in it!” fiercely. 

“ Begging your pardon, my dove, but I am. I prom- 
bed to give you my enlivening society for a month, and 
a Lennox keeps his word, even at the cost of his life.” 

“ I’m sorry I asked such a saciifice ; but I innocently 
thought that, after being away for five long years, you 
might care to see your orphan sister,” and the dove 
produced her handkerchief with a plaintive sniff. 

“Now, my dear creature, don’t be melodramatic, ] 


HOW THEY WALKED, ETC. 


209 


beg of you ! ” cried her brother, imploringly. “ I wished 
to come, I pined to embrace you, and, I give you my 
word, I don’t blame you for the stupidity of this con- 
founded place.” 

“ It never was so gay as since you came, for eveiy 
one has tried to make, it pleasant for you,” cried KatOj 
ruffled at his indifference to the hospitable efforts of 
herself and friends. “ But you don’t care for any of 
our simple amusements, because you are spoilt by the 
flattery, gayety, and nonsense of foreign society. If I 
didn’t know it was half affectation, I should be in de- 
spair, you are so blase and absurd. It’s always the 
way with men : if one happens to be handsome, accom- 
plished, and talented, he puts on as many airs, and is 
as vain as any silly girl.” 

“ Don’t you think if you took breath you’d get on 
faster, my dear ? ” asked the imperturbable gentleman, 
as Kate paused with a gasp. 

“ I know it’s useless for me to talk, as you don’t care 
a straw what I say; but it’s true, and some day you’ll 
wish you had done something worth doing all these 
years. I was so proud of you, so fond of you, that I 
can’t help being disappointed to find you with no more 
ambition than to kill time comfortably, no interest in 
any thing but your own pleasures, and only energy 
enough to amuse yourself with a pair of scarlet 
stockings.” 

Pathetic as poor Kate’s face and voice were, it was 
impossible to help laughing at the comical conclusion 
of her lament. Lennox tried to hide the smile on his 
lips by affecting to curl his moustache with care, and to 
gaze pensively out as if touched by her appeal. But 
14 


210 


SCARLET STOCKINGS. 


he a^^asn’t, — * oh, bless you, no ! she was only his sister 
and, though she might have talked with the wisdom 
of Solomon and the eloquence of Demosthenes, it 
wouldn’t have done a particle of good. Sisters do 
very well to work for one, to pet one, and play confi* 
dante when one’s love affairs need feminine wit to con • 
duct them ; but when they begin to reprove, or criticise;, 
or moralize, it won’t do, and can’t be allowed, of course. 
Lennox never snubbed anybody, but blandly extin- 
guished them by a polite acquiescence in all their 
affirmations, for the time being, and then went on in 
his own way as if nothing had been said. 

“I dare say you are right; I’ll go and think over 
your very sensible advice,” and, as if roused to un- 
wonted exertion by the stings of an accusing con- 
science, he left the room abruptly. 

“ I do believe I’ve made an impression at last ! He’s 
actually gone out to think over what I’ve said. Dear 
Harry, I was sure he had a heart, if one only knew 
how to get at it ! ” and with a sigh of satisfaction Kate 
went to the window to behold the “ Dear Harry ” going 
briskly down the street after a pair of scarlet stockings. 
A spark of anger kindled in her eyes as she watched 
him, and when he vanished she still stood knitting her 
brows in deep thought, for a grand idea was dawning 
upon her. 

It was a dull town; no one could deny that, for 
everybody was so intensely proper and well-born that 
nobody dared to be jolly. All the houses were square, 
aristocratic mansions with Revolutionary elms in front 
and spacious coach-houses behind. The knockers had 
a supercilious perk to their bronze oi brass noses, the 


BOW THEY WALKED, ETC. 


211 


dandelions on the lawns had a highly connected air, 
and the very pigs were evidently descended from “ our 
first families.” Stately dinner-parties, decorous dances, 
moral picnics, and much tea-pot gossiping were the 
social resources of the place. Of course, the young 
people flirted, for that diversion is apparently irradi- 
cable even in the “ best society,” but it was done with 
a propriety which was edifying to behold. 

One can easily imagine that such a starched state of 
things would not be particularly attractive to a trav- 
elled young gentleman like Lennox, who, as Kate very 
truly said, had been spoilt by the flattery, luxury, and 
gayety of foreign society. He did his best, but by the 
end of the flrst week ennui claimed him for its own, 
and passive endurance was all that was left him. From 
perfect despair he was rescued by the scarlet stockings, 
which went tripping by one day as he stood at the win- 
dow, planning some means of escape. 

A brisk, blithe-faced girl passed in a gray walking 
suit with a distracting pair of high-heeled boots and 
glimpses of scarlet at the ankle. Modest, perfectly so, 
I assure you, were the glimpses ; but the feet were so 
decidedly pretty that one forgot to look at the face 
appertaining thereunto. It wasn’t a remarkably lovely 
face, but it was a happy, wholesome one, with all sorts 
of good little dimples in cheek and chin, sunshiny 
twinkles in the black eyes, and a decided yet lovable 
look about the mouth that was quite satisfactory. A 
busy, bustling little body she seemed to be, for sack- 
pockets and mufl* were full of bundles, and the trim 
boots tripped briskly over the ground, as if the girl’s 
heart were as light as her heels. Someho w this active, 


212 


SCARLET STOCKINGS. 


pleasant figure seemed to wake up the whole street, 
and leave a streak of sunshine behind it, for every one 
nodded as it passed, and the primmest faces relaxed 
into smiles, which lingered when the girl had gone. 

“Uncommonly pretty feet, — she walks well, which 
American girls seldom do, — all waddle or prance, — 
nice face, but the boots are French, and it does my 
heart good to see them.” 

Lennox made these observations to himself as the 
young lady approached, nodded to Kate at another 
window, gave a quick but comprehensive glance at 
himself and trotted round the corner, leaving the im- 
pression on his mind that a whiff of fresh spring air 
had blown through the street in spite of the December 
snow. He didn’t trouble himself to ask who it was, 
but fell into the way of lounging in the bay-window at 
about three p.m., and watching the gray and scarlet 
figure pass with its blooming cheeks, bright eyes, and 
elastic step. Having nothing else to do, he took to 
petting this new whim, and quite depended on the 
daily stirring up which the sight of the energetic dam- 
sel gave him. Kate saw it all, but took no notice till 
the day of the little tiflT above recorded ; after that 
she was as soft as a summer sea, and by some clever 
stroke had Belle Morgan to tea that very week. 

Lennox was one of the best-tempered fellows in the 
world, but the “ peacocks ” did rather nettle him, because 
there was some truth in the insinuation ; so he took care 
to put on no airs or try to be fascinating in the presence 
of Miss Belle. In truth, he soon forgot himself entirely, 
and enjoyed her oddities with a relish, after the prim 
proprieties of the other young ladies who had simpered 


WHERE THEY LED HIM 


213 


and sighed before him. For the first time in his life, 
the “Crusher,” as his male friends called him, got 
crushed; for Belle, with the subtle skill of a quick- 
witted, keen-sighted girl, soon saw and condemned the 
elegant affectations which others called foreign polish. 
A look, a word, a gesture from a pretty woqian, is often 
more eloquent and impressive than moral essays or semi- 
occasional twinges of conscience ; and in the presence of 
one satirical little person Sir Charles Coldstream soon 
ceased to deserve the name. 

Belle seemed to get over her hurry and to find time 
for occasional relaxation, but one never knew in what 
mood he might find her, for the weathercock was not 
more changeable than she. Lennox liked that, and 
found the muffin-worries quite endurable with this sauce 
piquante to relieve their insipidity. Presently he dis- 
covered that he was suffering for exercise, and formed 
the wholesome habit of promenading the town about 
three p.m. ; Kate said, to follow the scarlet stockings. 


CHAPTER II. 

WHERE THEY LED HIM. 

“Whither away, Miss Morgan?” asked Lennox, as 
he overtook her one bitter cold day. 

“ I’m taking my constitutional.” 

“ So am I.” 

“ With a difference,” and Belle glanced at the blue* 


214 


SCARLET STOCKINGS. 


nosed, muffled-up gentleman strolling along beside hef 
with an occasional shiver and shrug. 

“ After a winter in the south of France, one does not 
find arctic weather like this easy to bear,” he said, with 
a disgusted air. 

“ 1 like it, and do my five or six miles a day, which 
keeps me in what fine ladies call ‘ rude health,’ ” answered 
Belle, walking him on at a pace which soon made his 
furs a burden. 

She was a famous pedestrian, and a little proud of 
her powers ; but she outdid all former feats that day, 
and got over the ground in gallant style. Something 
in her manner put her escort on his mettle ; and his usual 
lounge was turned into a brisk march, which set his 
blood dancing, face glowing, and spirits effervescing as 
they had not done for many a day. 

“ There ! you look more like your real self now,” said 
Belle, with the first sign of approval she had ever vouch- 
safed him, as he rejoined her after a race to recover her 
veil, which the wind whisked away over hedge and 
ditch. 

“Are you sure you know what my real self is?” he 
asked, with a touch of the “ conquering hero ” air. 

“Not a doubt of it. I always know a soldier when I 
see one,” returned Belle, decidedly. 

“ A soldier ! that’s the last thing I should expect to 
be accused of,” and Lennox looked both surprised and 
gratified. 

“ There’s a flash in your eye and a ring to your voice, 
occasionally, which made me suspect that you had fire 
and energy enough if you only chose to show it, and 
the spirit with which you have j List executed the ‘ Mor- 


WHERE THEY LED HIM. 


215 


gan Quickstep’ proves that I was right,” returned 
Belle, laughing. 

“ Then I am not altogether a ‘ peacock ’ ? ” said Len- 
nox, significantly, for during the chat, which had been 
as brisk as the walk, Belle had given his besetting sins 
several sly hits, and he couldn’t resist one return shot, 
much as her unexpected compliment pleased him. 

Poor Belle blushed up to her forehead, tried to look 
as if she did not understand, and gladly hid her confu- 
sion behind the recovered veil without a word. 

There was a decided display both of the “ flash ” and 
the “ ring,” as Lennox looked at the suddenly subdued 
young lady, and, quite satisfied with his retaliation, 
gave the order, “ Forward, march ! ” which brought 
them to the garden-gate breathless, but better friends 
than before. 

The next time the young people met. Belle was in 
such a hurry that she went round the corner with an 
abstracted expression which was quite a triumph of art. 
Just then, ofi* tumbled the lid of the basket she carried ; 
and Lennox, rescuing it from a puddle, obligingly helped 
readjust it over a funny collection of bottles, dishes, and 
tidy little rolls of all sorts. 

“ It’s very heavy, mayn’t I carry it for you ? ” he 
asked, in an insinuating manner. 

“No, thank you,” was on Belle’s lips; but, observing 
that he was dressed with unusual elegance to pay calls, 
she couldn’t resist the temptation of making a beast of 
burden of him, and took him at his word. 

“You may, if you like. I’ve got more bundles to 
take from the store, and another pair of hands won’t 
come amiss.” 


216 


SCABLET SO^OCEJNGS, 


Lennox lifted his eyebrows, also the basket ; and 
they went on again, Belle very much aosorbed in hef 
business, and her escort wondering where she was 
going with all that rubbish. Filling his unoccupied 
hand with sundry brown paper parcels, much to the deb* 
riment of the light glove that covered it. Belle paraded 
him down the main street before the windows of the 
most aristocratic mansions, and then dived into a dirty 
back-lane, where the want and misery of the town was 
decorously kept out of sight. 

“You don’t mind scarlet fever, I suppose?” observed 
Belle, as they approached the unsavory residence of 
Biddy O’Brien. 

“Well, I’m not exactly partial to it,” said Lennox, 
rather taken aback. 

“ You needn’t go in if you are afraid, or speak to me 
afterwards, so no hann will be done — except to your 
gloves.” 

“ Why do you come here, if I may ask ? It isn’t the 
sort of amusement I should recommend,” he began, evi- 
dently disapproving of the step. 

“ Oh, I’m used to it, and like to play nurse where 
father plays doctor. I’m fond of children and Mrs. 
O’Brien’s are little dears,” returned Belle, briskly, 
threading her way between ash-heaps and mud-puddlea 
as if bound to a festive scene. 

“Judging from the row in there, I should infer that 
Mrs. O’Brien had quite a herd of little dears.” 

“ Only nine.” 

“ And all sick ? ” 

“ More or less.” 

“By Jove! it’s perfectly heroic in you to visit this 


WHERE THEY LED HIM. 


217 


hole in spite of dirt, noise, fragrance, and infection,” 
cried Lennox, who devoutly wished that the sense of 
Emell if not of hearing were temporarily denied him. 

“Bless you, it’s the sort of thing I enjoy, for there’s 
no nonsense here ; the work you do is pleasant if you 
do it heartily, and the thanks you get are worth having, 
I assure you.” 

She put out her hand to relieve him of the basket, 
but he gave it an approving little shake, and said 
briefly, — 

“Not yet. I’m coming in.” 

It’s all very well to rhapsodize about the exquisite 
pleasure of doing good, to give carelessly of one’s 
abundance, and enjoy the delusion of having remem- 
bered the poor. But it is a cheap charity, and never 
brings the genuine satisfaction which those know who 
give their mite with heart as well as hand, and truly 
love their neighbor as themselves. Lennox had seen 
much fashionable benevolence, and laughed at it even 
while he imitated it, giving generously when it wasn’t 
inconvenient. But this was a new sort of thing en- 
tirely ; and in spite of the dirt, the noise, and the smells, 
he forgot the fever, and was glad he came when poor 
Mrs. O’Brien turned from her sick babies, exclaiming, 
with Irish fervor at sight of Belle, — 

“ The Lord love ye, darlin, for remimberin us when 
ivery one, barrin’ the doctor, and the praste, turns the 
cowld shouldther in our throuble ! ” 

“ Now if you really want to help, just keep this cniid 
quiet while I see to the sickest ones,” said Belle, 
dumping a stout infant on to his knee, thrusting an 
orange into his hand, and leaving him aghast while she 


218 


SCARLET STOCKINGS. 


unpacked her little messes, and comforted the materna, 
bird. 

With the calmness of desperation, her aid-de-camp 
put down his best beaver on the rich soil which covered 
the floor, pocketed his gloves, and, making a bib of 
his cambric handkerchief, gagged young Pat deliciously 
with bits of orange whenever he opened his mouth to 
roar. At her first leisure moment, Belle glanced at 
him to see how he was getting on, and found him so 
solemnly absorbed in his task that she went ofi* into a 
burst of such infectious merriment that the O’Briens, 
sick and well, joined in it to a man. 

“ Good fun, isn’t it ? ” she asked, turning down her 
cufis when the last spoonful of gruel was administered, 

“ I’ve no doubt of it, when one is used to the thing. 
It comes a little hard at first, you know,” returned 
Lennox, wiping his forehead, with a long breath, and 
seizing his hat as if quite ready to tear himself away. 

“You’ve done very well for a beginner; so kiss the 
baby and come home,” said Belle approvingly. 

“ No, thank you,” muttered Lennox, trying to detach 
the bedaubed innocent. But little Pat had a grateful 
heart, and, falling upon his new nurse’s neck with a 
rapturous crow, clung there like a burr. 

“Take him off! Let me out of this! He’s one too 
many for me ! ” cried the wretched young man in comio 
despair. 

Being freed with much laughter, he turned and fled, 
followed by a shower of blessings from Mrs. O’Brien. 

As they came up again into the pleasant highways, 
Lennox said, awkwardly for him, — 

“The thanks of the poor are excellent things to 


WHEBE THEY LED HIM. 


219 


have, but I think I’d rather receive them by pioxy. 
Will you kindly spend this for me in making that poor 
soul comfortable ? ” 

But Belle wouldn’t take what he offered her ; she put 
It back, saying earnestly, — 

“ Give it yourself ; one can’t buy blessings, — they 
must be earned or they are not worth having. Try it, 
please, and, if you find it a failure, then I’ll gladly be 
your almoner.” 

There was a significance in her words which he could 
not fail to understand. He neither shrugged„drawled, 
nor sauntered now, but gave her a look in which re- 
spect and self-reproach were mingled, and left her, 
simply saying, “I’ll try it. Miss Morgan.” 

“ Now isn’t she odd ? ” whispered Kate to her brother, 
as Belle appeared at a little dance at Mrs. Plantagenet’s 
in a high-necked dress, knitting away on an army-sock, 
as she greeted the friends who crowded round her. 

“Charmingly so. Why don’t you do that sort of 
thing when you can ? ” answered her brother, glancing 
at her thin, bare shoulders, and hands rendered nearly 
useless by the tightness of the gloves. 

“ Gracious, no ! It’s natural to her to do so, and she 
carries it off well; I couldn’t, therefore I don’t try, 
though I admire it in her. Go and ask her to danp«, 
before she is engaged.” 

“ She doesn’t dance round dances, you know.” 

“ She is dreadfully prim about some things, and so 
free and easy about others : I can’t understand it, do 
you ? ” 

“Well, yes, I think I do. Here’s Forbes coming for 
you. I’ll go and entertain Belle by a quarreL” 


220 


SCAELET STOCKINGS. 


He found her in a recess out of the way of the rush- 
ing and romping, busy with her work, yet evidently 
glad to be amused. 

“ I admire your adherence to principle, Miss Belle ; 
but don’t you find it a little hard to sit still while your 
friends are enjoying themselves?” he asked, sinking 
luxuriously into the lounging chair beside her. 

“Yes, very,” answered Belle with characteristic 
candor. “ But father does not approve of that sort of 
exercise, so I console myself with something useful till 
my chance comes.” 

“Your work can’t exactly be called ornamental,” 
said Lennox, looking at the big sock. 

“Don’t laugh at it, sir; it is for the foot of the brave 
fellow who is going to fight for me and his country.” 

“ Happy fellow 1 May I ask who he is ? ” and Lennox 
sat up with an air of interest. 

“ My substitute : I don’t know his name, for father 
has not got him yet ; but I’m making socks, and towels, 
and a comfort-bag for him, so that when found he may 
be ofi* at once.” 

“You really mean it?” cried Lennox. 

“ Of course I 3o ; I can’t go myself, but I can buy a 
pair of strong arms to fight for me, and I intend to do 
it. I only hope he’ll have the right sort of courage, and 
be a credit to me.” 

“What do you call the right sort of courage?” 
asked Lennox, soberly. 

“ That which makes a man ready and glad to live or 
die for a principle. There’s a chance for heroes now, 
if there ever was. When do you join your regiment ? ” 
she added, abruptly. 


WHERE THEY LED HIM. 


22J 


“ Haven’t the least idea,” and Lennox subsided again* 

“But you intend to do so, of course?” 

“ Why should I ? ” 

Belle dropped her work. “ Why should you ? What 
B question! Because you have health, and strength, 
and courage, and money to help on the good cause, and 
©very an should give his best, and not dare to stay 
at home when he is needed.” 

“You forget that I am an Englishman, and we rather 
prefer to be strictly neutral just now.” 

“You are only half English; and for your mother’s 
sake you should be proud and glad to fight for the 
North,” cried Belle warmly. 

“I don’t remember my mother, — ” 

“ That’s evident ! ” 

“ But, I was about to add, I’ve no objection to lend a 
hand if it isn’t too much trouble to get off,” said Lennox 
indifferently, for he liked to see Belle’s color rise, and 
her eyes kindle while he provoked her. 

“Do you expect to go South in a bandbox ? You’d 
better join one of the kid-glove regiments ; they say 
the dandies fight well when the time comes.” 

“ I’ve been away so long, the patriotic fever hasn’t 
seized me yet ; and, as the quarrel is none of mine, I 
think perhaps I’d better take care of Kate, and let you 
fight it out among yourselves. Here’s the Lancers, 
may I have the honor? ” 

But Belle, being very angry at this lukewarmness, 
answered in her bluntest manner, — 

“ Having reminded me that you are a ‘ strictly neu- 
tral ’ Englishman, you must excuse me if I decline ; I 
dance only with loyal Americans,” and, rolling up her 


222 


SCARLET STOCKINGS. 


work with a defiant flourish, she walked away, leaving 
him to lament his loss and wonder how he could re- 
trieve it. She did not speak to him again till he stood 
in the hall waiting for Kate ; then Belle came down in 
a charming little red hood, and going straight up to 
him with her hand out, a repentant look and a friendly 
smile, said frankly, — 

“ I was very rude ; I want to beg pardon of the 
English, and shake hands with the American, half.” 

So peace was declared, and lasted unbroken for the 
remaining week of his stay, when he proposed to take 
Kate to the city for a little gayety. Miss Morgan 
openly approved the plan, but secretly felt as if the 
town was about to be depopulated, and tried to hide 
her melancholy in her substitute’s socks. They were 
not large enough, however, to absorb it all ; and, when 
Lennox went to make his adieu, it was perfectly evi- 
dent that the Doctor’s Belle was out of tune. The 
young gentleman basely exulted over this, till she gave 
him something else to think about by saying gravely : 

“ Before you go, I feel as if I ought to tell you some- 
thing, since Kate won’t. If you are oflfended about it 
please don’t blame her; she meant it kindly, and so did 
I.” Belle paused as if it was not an easy thing to tell^ 
and then went on quickly, with her eyes upon her work 

“ Three weeks ago Kate asked me to help her in » 
little plot; and I consented, for the fun of the thing 
She wanted something to amuse and stir you up, and* 
finding that my queer ways diverted you, she begged 
me to be neighborly and let you do what you liked. ] 
didn’t care particularly about amusing you, but I did 
think you needed rousing ; so for her sake I tried to dc 


WHERE THEY LED HIM. 


223 


it, and you \ 2ry good-naturedly bore my lecturing. I 
don’t like deceit of any kind, so I confess ; but I can’t 
Bay I’m sorry, for I really think you are none the worse 
for the teasing and teaching you’ve had.” 

Belle didn’t see him flush and frown as she made her 
confession, and when she looked up he only said, half 
gratefully, half reproachfully, — 

“ I’m a good deal the better for it, I dare say, and 
ought to be very thankful for your friendly exertions. 
But two against one was hardly fair, now, was it ? ” 

“N^o, it was sly and sinful in the highest degree, but 
we did it for your good ; so I know you’ll forgive us, 
and as a proof of it sing one or two of my favorites for 
the last time.” 

“You don’t deserve any favor; but I’ll do it, to 
show you how much more magnanimous men are than 
women.” 

Not at all loth to improve his advantages, Lennox 
warbled his most melting lays con amove, watching, as 
he sung, for any sign of sentiment in the girlish face 
opposite. But Belle wouldn’t be sentimental ; and sat 
rattling her knitting-needles industriously, though “ The 
Harbor Bar was moaning ” dolefully, though “ Douglas ” 
was touchingly “tender and true,” and the “Wind of 
the Summer Night ” sighed romantically through the 
sitting-room. 

“ Much obliged. Must you go ? ” she said, without a 
sign of soft confusion as he rose. 

“ I must ; but I shall come again before I leave the 
country. May I ? ” he asked, holding her hand. 

“ If you come in a uniform.” 

“ Good night. Belle,” tenderly. — “ Good-by, Sir 


224 


SCARLET STOCKINGS. 


Charles” with a wicked twinkle of the eye, which 
lasted till he closed the hall-door, growling irefully, — 

“ I thought I’d had some experience, but one never 
ca 92 understand these women ! ” 

Canterbury did become a desert to Belle after her 
dear friend had gone (of course the dear friend’s 
brother had nothing to do with the desolation) ; and as 
the weeks dragged slowly Belle took to reading poetry, 
practising plaintive ballads, and dawdling over her 
work at a certain window which commanded a view of 
the railway station and hotel. 

“You’re dull, my dear; run up to town with me to- 
morrow, and see your young man off,” said the Doctor 
one evening, as Belle sat musing with a half-mended 
red stocking in her hand. 

“My young man?” she ejaculated, turning with a 
start and a blush. 

“Your substitute, child. Stephens attended to the 
business for me, and he’s off to-morrow. I began to 
tell you about the fellow last week, but you were wool- 
gathering, so I stopped.” 

“Yes, I remember, it was all very nice. Goes to- 
morrow, does he? I’d like to see him; but do you 
think we can both leave home at once? Some one 
might come you know, and I fancy it’s going to snow,” 
said Belle, putting her face behind the curtain to inspect 
the weather. 

“You’d better go, the trip will do you good ; you can 
take your things to Tom Jones, and see Kate on the 
way : she’s got back from Philadelphia.” 

“ Has she ? I’ll go, then ; it will please her, and I do 
need change. You are a dear, to think of it;” and, 


WHERE THEY LED HIM. 


22b 


giving her father a hasty glimpse of a suddenly excited 
countenance, Belle slipped out of the room to prepare 
her best array, with a most reckless disregard of the 
impending storm. 

It did not snow on the morrow, and up they went 
to see the — th regiment off. Belle did not see “ her 
young man,” however, for while her father went to 
carry him her comforts and a patriotic nosegay of red 
and white flowers, tied up with a smart blue ribbon, 
she called on Kate. But Miss Lennox was engaged, 
and sent an urgent request that her friend would call 
in the afternoon. Much disappointed and a little hurt. 
Belle then devoted herself to the departing regiment, 
wishing she was going with it, for she felt in a warlike 
mood. It was past noon when a burst of martial music, 
the measured tramp of many feet, and enthusiastic 
cheers announced that “ the boys ” were coming. From 
the balcony where she stood with her father. Belle 
looked down upon the living stream that flowed by like 
a broad river, with a steely glitter above the blue. All 
her petty troubles vanished at the sight; her heart beat 
high, her face glowed, her eyes filled, and she waved 
her handkerchief as zealously as if she had a dozen 
friends and lovers in the ranks below. 

“ Here comes your man ; I told him to stick the posy 
where it would catch my eye, so I could point him out 
to you. Look, it’s the tall fellow at the end of the front 
line,” said the Doctor in an excited tone, as he pointed 
and beckoned. 

Belle looked and gave a little cry, for there, in a 
private’s uniform, with her nosegay at his buttohhole, 
and on his face a smile she never forgot, was Lennox 1 
16 


226 


SOABLET STOCKINGS. 


For an instant she stood staring at him as pale and 
startled as if he were a ghost ; then the color rushed in- 
to her face, she kissed both hands to him, and cried 
bravely, “ Good-by, good-by ; God bless you, Harry ! ” 
and immediately laid her head on her father’s shouldeig 
sobbing as if her heart was broken. 

When she looked up, her substitute was lost in the 
undulating mass below, and for her the spectacle was 
over. 

“Was it really he? Why wasn’t I told? What 
does it all mean ? ” she demanded, looking bewildered, 
grieved, and ashamed. 

“ He’s really gone, my dear. It’s a surprise of his, 
and I was bound over to silence. Here, this will ex- 
plain the joke, I suppose,” and the Doctor handed her 
a cocked-hat note, done up like a military order. 

“ A Roland for your Oliver, Mademoiselle ! I came home for 
the express purpose of enlisting, and only delayed a month on 
Kate’s account. If I ever return, I will receive my bounty at 
your hands. Till then please comfort Kate, think as kindly as 
you can of ‘ Sir Charles,’ and sometimes pray a little prayer for 

Your unworthy 

“ Substitute." 

Belle looked very pale and meek when she put the 
note in her pocket, but she only said, “ I must go and 
comfort Kate and the Doctor gladly obeyed, feeling 
that the joke was more serious than he had imagined. 

The moment her friend appeared. Miss Lennox turned 
on her tears, and “ played away,” pouring forth lamenta- 
tions, reproaches, and regrets in a steady stream. 

“ I hope you are satisfied now, you cruel girl ! ” she 
began, refusing to be kissed. “You’ve sent him ofl: 


WHERE THEY LED HIM. 


227 


with a broken heart to rush into danger and be shot, or 
get his arms and legs spoiled. You know he loved you 
and wanted to tell you so, but you wouldn’t let him ; 
and now you’ve driven him away, and he’s gone as an 
insignificant private with his head shaved, and a heavy 
knapsack breaking his back, and a horrid gun that will 
be sure to explode : and he would wear those immense 
blue socks you sent, for he adores you, and you only 
teased and laughed at him, my poor, deluded, deserted 
brother ! ” And, quite overwhelmed by the afflicting 
picture, Kate lifted up her voice and wept again. 

“ I am satisfied, for he’s done what I hoped he would ; 
and he’s none the less a gentleman because he’s a private 
and wears my socks. I pray they will keep him safe, 
and bring him home to us when he has done his duty 
like a man, as I know he will. I’m proud of my 
brave substitute, and I’ll try to be worthy of him,” cried 
Belle, kindling beautifully as she looked out into the 
wintry sunshine with a new softness in the eyes that 
still seemed watching that blue-coated figure marching 
away to danger, perhaps death. 

“ It’s ill playing with edged tools ; we meant to amuse 
him, and we may have sent him to destruction. I’ll 
never forgive you for your part, never ! ” said Kate, 
with the charming inconsistency of her sex. 

But Belle turned away her wrath by a soft answer, as 
she whispered, with a tender choke in her voice, — 

“We both loved him, dear; let’s comfort one aii^ 
other.” 


228 


SCARLET STOCKINGS, 


CHAPTER III. 

WEAT BECAME OF THEM, 

l^RivATE Lennox certainly had chosen pretty hard 
work, for the — ^th was not a “ kid-glove ” regiment by 
any means; fighting in mid-winter was not exactly fes- 
tive, and camps do not abound in beds of roses even at 
the best of times. But Belle was right in saying she 
knew a soldier when she saw him, for, now that he was 
thoroughly waked up, he proved that there was plenty 
of courage, energy, and endurance in him. 

It is my private opinion that he might now and then 
have slightly regretted the step he had taken, had it 
not been for certain recollections of a sarcastic tongue 
and a pair of keen eyes, not to mention the influence 
of one of the most potent rulers of the human heart ; 
namely, the desire to prove himself worthy the respect, 
if nothing more, of somebody at home. Belle’s socks 
did seem to keei3 him safe, and lead him straight in the 
narrow path of duty. Belle’s comfort-bag was such in 
ver} truth, for not one of the stout needles on the tri- 
colored cushion but what seemed to wink its eye ap- 
provingly at him ; not one of the tidy balls of thread 
that did not remind him of the little hand he coveted, 
and the impracticable scissors were cherished as a good 
omen, though he felt that the sharpest steel that ever 
came from Sheffield couldn’t cut his love in twain, 
And Belle’s lessons, short as they had been, were not 
forgotten, but seemed to have been taken up by a 


WHAT BECAME OF THEM. 


229 


Bterner mistress, whose rewards were greater, if not so 
sweet, as those the girl could give. There was plenty 
of exercise nowadays, and of hard work that left many 
a tired head asleep for ever under the snow. There 
were many opportunities for diving “ into the depths 
and bringing up pearls worth having ” by acts of kind- 
ness among the weak, the wicked, and the suffering all 
about him. He learned now how to earn, not buy, the 
thanks of the poor, and unconsciously proved in the 
truest way that a private could be a gentleman. But 
best of all was the steadfast purpose “ to live and die 
for a principle,” which grew and strengthened with 
each month of bitter hardship, bloody strife, and dearly 
bought success. Life grew earnest to him, time seemed 
precious, self was forgotten, and all that was best ana 
bravest i*allied round the flag on which his heart in- 
scribed the motto, “ Love and Liberty.” 

Praise and honor he could not fail to win, and had he 
never gone back to claim his bounty he would have 
earned the great “ Well done,” for he kept his oath loy- 
ally, did his duty manfully, and loved his lady faith- 
fully, like a knight of the chivalrous times. He knew 
nothing of her secret, but wore her blue ribbon like an 
order, never went into battle without first, like many 
another poor fellow, kissing something which he car- 
ried next his heart, and with each day of absence Iblt 
himself a better man, and braver soldier, for the 
fondly foolish romance he had woven about the scarlet 
stockings. 

Belle and Kate did comfort one another, not only 
with tears and kisses, but with womanly work which 
kept hearts happy and hands busy. How Belle bribed 


230 


SCARLET STOCKiNOS. 


her to silence will always remain the ninth wonder of 
the world ; but, though reams of paper passed between 
brother and sister during those twelve months, not a 
hint was dropped on one side in reply to artful inquirieg 
from the other. Belle never told her love in words ; but 
she stowed away an unlimited quantity of the article in 
the big boxes that went to gladden the eyes and — alas 
for romance ! — the stomach of Private Lennox. If pic- 
kles could typify passion, cigars prove constancy, and 
gingerbread reveal the longings of the soul, then would 
the above-mentioned gentleman have been the happiest 
of lovers. But camp-life had doubtless dulled his finer 
intuitions : for he failed to understand the new language 
of love, and gave away these tender tokens with lav- 
ish prodigality. Concealment preyed a trifle on Belle’s 
damask cheek, it must be confessed, and the keen eyes 
grew softer with the secret tears that sometimes dimmed 
them ; the sharp tongue seldom did mischief now, but 
uttered kindly words to every one, as if doing penance 
for the past ; and a sweet seriousness toned down the 
lively spirit, which was learning many things in the 
sleepless nights that followed when the “little prayer” 
for the beloved substitute was done. 

“ I’ll wait and see if he is all I hope he will be, before 
1 let him know. I shall read the truth the instant I see 
him, and if he has stood the test I’ll run into his arms 
and tell him every thing,” she said to herself, with deli- 
cious thrills at the idea ; but you may be sure she did 
nothing of the sort when the time came. 

A rumor flew through the town one day that Lennox 
had arrived ; upon receipt of which joyful tidings. Belle 
had a panic and hid herself in the garret. But when 


WHAT BECAME OF THEM. 


281 


slie had quaked, and cried, and peeped, and listened 
for an hour or two, finding that no one came to hunt 
her up, she composed her nerves and descended to pass 
the afternoon in the parlor and a high state of dignity. 
All sorts of reports reached her: he was mortally 
wounded ; he had been made a major or a colonel or a 
general, no one knew exactly which ; he was dead, was 
going to be married, and hadn’t come at all. Belle 
fully expiated all her small sins by the agonies of sus- 
pense she suflTered that day, and when at last a note 
came from Kate, begging her “to drop over to see 
Harry,” she put her pride in her pocket and went at 
once. 

The drawing-room was empty and in confusion, there 
was a murmur of voices upstairs, a smell of camphor 
in the air, and an empty wine-glass on the table where a 
military cap was lying. Belle’s heart sunk, and she 
covertly kissed the faded blue coat as she stood waiting 
breathlessly, wondering if Harry had any arms for her 
to run into. She heard the chuckling Biddy lumber up 
and announce her, then a laugh, and a half-fond, halt- 
exulting, “Ah, ha, I thought she’d come!” 

That spoilt it all ; Belle took out her pride instanter, 
rubbed a quick color into her white cheeks, and, snatch- 
ing up a newspaper, sat herself down with as expres- 
sionless a face as it was possible for an excited young 
woman to possess. Lennox came running down. 
“ Thank Heaven, his legs are safe 1 ” sighed Belle, with 
tier eyes glued to the price of beef. He entered with 
both hands extended, which relieved her mind upon 
another point; and he beamed upon her, looking so 
vigorous^ manly, and martial, that she cried within lier< 


232 


SCARLET STOCKINGS. 


self, My beautiful brown soldier ! ” even while she 
greeted him with an unnecessarily brief, “ How do you 
do, Mr. Lennox ? ” 

The sudden eclipse which passed over Lis joyful 
countenance would have been ludicrous, if it hadn t been 
pathetic ; but he was used to hard knocks now, and bore 
this, his hardest, like a man. He shook hands heartily ; 
and, as Belle sat down again (not to betray that she 
was trembling a good deal), he stood at ease before her, 
talking in a way which soon satisfied her that he had 
borne the test, and that bliss was waiting for her round 
the corner. But she had made it such a very sharp corner 
she couldn’t turn it gracefully, and while she pondered 
how to do so he helped her with a cough. She looked 
up quickly, discovering all at once that he was very thin, 
rather pale in spite of the nice tan, and breathed hur- 
riedly as he stood with one hand in his breast. 

“ Are you ill, wounded, in pain ? ” she asked, for- 
getting herself entirely. 

“ Yes, a.’ I three,” he answered, after a curious look 
at her changing color and anxious eyes. 

“ Sit down — tell me about it — can I do any thing ? ” 
and Belle began to plump up the pillows on the couch 
with nervous eagerness. 

“ Thank you. I’m past help,” was the mournful reply 
accompanied by a hollow cough which made her shiver. 

“ Oh, don’t say so ! Let me bring father ; he is very 
skilful. Shall I call Kate?” 

“ He can do nothing ; Kate doesn’t know this, and I 
beg you won’t tell her. I got a shot in the breast and 
made light of it, but it will finish me sooner or later 
I don’t mind telling you, for you are one of the strongs 


WHAT BECAME OF THEM. 


233 


cool sort, you know, and are not affected by such things 
But Kate is so fond of me, I don’t want to shock and 
trouble her yet awhile. Let her enjoy my little visit, 
and after I’m gone you can tell her the truth.” 

Belle had sat like a statue while he spoke with fre- 
quent pauses and an involuntary clutch or two at the 
Buffering breast. As he stopped and passed his hand 
over his eyes, she said slowly, as if her white lips were 
stiff, — 

“ Gone * where ? ” 

“Back to my place. I’d rather die fighting than 
fussed and wailed over by a parcel of women. I ex- 
pected to stay a week or so, but a battle is coming off 
sooner than we imagined, so I’m away again to-morrow. 
As I’m not likely ever to come back, I just wanted to 
ask you to stand by poor Kate when I’m finished, and 
to say good-by to you. Belle, before I go.” He put 
out his hand, but, holding it fast in both her own, she 
laid her tearful face down on it, whispering implor- 
ingly, — 

“ Oh, Harry, stay ! ” 

Never mind what happened for the next ten minutes ; 
suffice it to say that the enemy having surrendered, 
the victor took possession with great jubilation and 
showed no quarter. 

“Bang the field-piece, toot the fife, and beat the 
rolling drum, for ruse number three has succeeded 
Come down, Kate, and give us your blessing ! ” called 
Lennox, taking pity on his sister, who was anxiously 
awaiting the denouement on the stairs. 

In she rushed, and the young ladies laughed and 
cried, kissed and talked tumultuously, while their idol 


2^4 


BCABLET STOCKINGS. 


benignantly looked on, vainly endeavoring to repress 
all vestiges of unmanly emotion. 

“And you are not dying, really, truly?” cried Belle, 
when fair weather set in after the flurry. 

“ Bless your dear heart, no ! I’m as sound as a nut, 
and haven’t a wound to boast of, except this ugly slash 
on the head.” 

“ It’s a splendid wound, and I’m proud of it,” and 
Belle set a rosy little seal on the scar, which quite recon- 
ciled her lover to the disfigurement of his handsome 
forehead. “ You’ve learned to fib in the army, and I’m 
disappointed in you,” she added, trying to look reproach- 
ful and failing entirely. 

“ No, only the art of strategy. You quenched me by 
your frosty reception, and I thought it was all up till 
you put the idea of playing invalid into my head. It 
succeeded so well that I piled on the agony, resolving 
to fight it out on that line, and if I failed again to 
make a masterly retreat. You gave me a lesson in 
deceit once, so don’t complain if I turned the tables 
and made your heart ache for a minute, as you’ve made 
mine for a year.” 

Belle’s spirit was rapidly coming back, so she gave 
him a capital imitation of his French shrug, and drawled 
out in his old way, — 

“ I have my doubts about that, mon amir 

“What do you say to this — and this — and this?” 
he i*etorted, pulling out and laying before her with a 
triumphant flourish a faded blue ribbon, a fat pincushion 
with a hole through it, and a daintily painted little 
picture of a pretty girl in scarlet stockings. 

“There, I’ve carried those treasures in my breast* 


WBJT BECAME OF THEM. 235 

pocket for a year, and I’m firmly convinced that they 
have all done their part toward keeping me safe. The 
blue ribbon bound me fast to you, Belle ; the funny 
cushion caught the bullet that otherwise might have 
finished me ; and the blessed little picture was my 
comfort during those dreadful marches, my companion 
on picket-duty with treachery and danger all about me, 
and my inspiration when the word ‘ Charge ! ’ went 
down the line, for in the thickest of the fight I always 
saw the little gray figure beckoning me on to my duty.” 

“ Oh, Harry, you won’t go back to all those horrors, 
will you? I’m sure you’ve done enough, and may rest 
now and enjoy your reward,” said Kate, trying not to 
feel that “ two is company, and three is none.” 

“ I’ve enlisted for the war, and shall not rest till 
either it or J come to an end. As for my reward, I had 
it when Belle kissed me.” 

“ You are right. I’ll wait for you, and love you all the 
better for the sacrifice,” whispered Belle. “ I only wish 
I could share your hardships, dear, for while you fight 
and suffer I can only love and pray.” 

“ W aiting is harder than working to such as you ; so 
be contented with your share, for the thought of you 
will glorify the world generally for me. I’ll tell you 
what you can do while I’m away : it’s both useful and 
amusing, so it will occupy and cheer you capitally. 
Just knit lots of red hose, because I don’t intend you to 
wear any others hereafter, Mrs. Lennox.” 

“Mine are not worn out yet,” laughed Belle, getting 
merry at the thought. 

“ No matter for that ; those are sacred articles, and 
henceforth must be treasured as memorials of our love. 


236 


SCARLET STOCKINGS. 


Frame and hang them up ; or, if the prejudices of society 
forbid that flight of romance, lay them carefully away 
where moths can’t devour nor thieves steal them, so that 
years hence, when my descendants praise me for any 
virtues I may possess, any good I may have done, or any 
honor I may have earned, I can point to those precious 
relics and say proudly, — 

“ My children, for all that I am, or hope to be, you 
must thank your honored mother’s scarlet stockings ” 


INDEPENDE:NCE: 

A CENTENNIAL LOVE STOBT 


CHAPTER L 
MISS DOLLY, 

‘ OTUPID-LO OKING old place ! Dare say I shall 
have to waste half an hour listening to centen- 
nial twaddle before I get what I want! The whole 
tfiing is a bore, but I can’t quarrel with my bread and 
butter, so here goes;” and, with an air of resignation, 
the young man applied himself to the rusty knocker. 

“Rather a nice old bit; may be useful, so I’ll book 
it ; ” and, whipping out a sketch-book, the stranger took 
a hasty likeness of the griffin’s head on the knocker. 

“ Deaf as posts ; try, try, try again ; ” and, pocketing 
bis work, the artist gave an energetic rat, tat, tat, that 
echoed through the house. 

Having rashly concluded that the inhabitants of the 
ancient mansion were proportionately aged, he assumed 
fi deferential expression as steps approached, and pre- 
pared to prefer with all due respect the request which 
he had come many miles to make. The door opened 
with unexpected rapidity, but the neatly arranged 
speech did not glide glibly off the young man’s tongue, 
and the change which came over him was comically 


238 


INDEPENDENCE. 


sudden; for, instead of an old woman, a blooming girl 
stood upon the threshold, with a petulant expression on 
her charming face, which only made it more charming 
still. 

“What did you wish, sir?” asked the rosy mouth, 
involuntarily relaxing from a vain attempt to look 
severe, while the hazel eyes softened with a mirthful 
gleam as they rested on the comely, but embarrassed 
countenance before her. 

“ Beg pardon for making such a noise. I merely 
wished to inquire if the famous chair in which Wash- 
ington sat when he visited the town is here,” replied 
the stranger, clutching off his hat with a very different 
sort of respect from that which he had intended to 
show, and feeling as if he had received a shock of some 
new and delightful sort of electricity. 

“Yes;” and the girl began to close the door, as if 
she knew what question was coming next. 

“Could I be allowed to sketch it for ‘The Weekly 
Portfolio’? All such relics are so valuable this year 
that we venture to ask many favors, and this is such 
a famous affair I’ve no doubt you are often troubled 
by requests of this sort,” continued the artist, with the 
persuasive tone of one accustomed to make his way 
everywhere. 

“ This is the fifth time this week,” replied the damsel, 
demurely ; though her lips still struggled not to smile. 

“ It’s very good of you, I’m sure, to let us fellows in, 
but the public demand is immense just now, and we 
onlj obey orders, you know,” began the fifth intruder, 
fervently hoping the other four had been refused. 

“But Mrs. Hill never does let artists or reporters 


MISS DOLLY. 


239 


in,” was the gentle quencher which arrested him, as he 
was industriously wiping his feet on the door-mat. 

“Never?” he asked, stopping short, while an express 
sion of alarm changed suddenly to one of satisfaction. 

“ Never,” answered the damsel, like a sweet* voiced 
echo. 

“ Then the other fellows lost their chance, and that 
makes the old thing doubly valuable. If I could see 
Mrs. Hill for a moment. I’ve no doubt she will allow 
me to sketch the chair.” 

“ She is not at home.” 

“ So much the better ; for, when I tell you that I’ve 
come fifty miles to pick up antiquities in this town, I 
know you wonH have the heart to send me away with- 
out the gem of the collection,” replied the artist, noth- 
ing daunted; for his quick eye read the artless face 
before him, and saw a defiant expression come over it, 
which made him suspect that there had been a falling 
out between mistress and maid, if such they were. He 
was sure of it when the girl threw open the door with 
a decisive gesture, saying briefly, — 

“Walk in, if you please; she won’t be home for an 
hour.” 

“ What a little beauty ! ” thought the young man, 
admiring her spirit, and feeling that the “ stupid old 
place ” contained unexpected treasures, as he followed 
her into the room where the ubiquitous Father of his 
Country was reported to have dried his august boots, 
and drunk a mug of cider some hundred years ago. 

It seemed as if the ghosts of many of the homely 
household articles used then had come back to cele- 
brate the anniversary of that thrilling event ; for there 


240 


INDEPENDENCE. 


was nothing modern in the little room but the girl and 
her guest, who stared about him at the tall andirons 
on the hearth, the bright, brass candlesticks above it, 
the spinning-wheel on one side, a dresser on the other 
strewn with pewter platters, porringers, and old china, 
while antique garments hung over the settle by the 
fire. 

“Bless my soul, what a capital old place !” he ejacu- 
lated, taking it all in with an artist’s keen appreciation. 
“ I feel as if I’d gone back a century, and the General 
might come in at any minute.” 

“ That is the chair he used, and this the tankard he 
drank from,” answered the girl, pointing out the sacred 
objects with a reverential air which warned her visitor 
that he must treat the ancient and honorable relics with 
due respect. 

Then feeling that this was an unusual stroke of luck, 
he hastened to make the most of it, by falling to work 
at once, saying, as he took a seat, and pointed his 
pencils, — 

“ There is such a lot of treasures here that I don’t 
know where to begin. I hope I shall not be very much 
in your way.” 

“ Oh, no ! if you don’t mind my going on with my 
work; for I can’t leave it very well. All these things 
are to be sent away to-morrow, that’s why the place is 
in such confusion,” replied the girl, as she fell to pol- 
ishing up a brass snuffer-tray. 

“ Here’s richness ! ” thought the artist, with a sigh of 
satisfaction, as he dashed at his work, feeling wonder 
fully inspired by his picturesque surroundings. 

The dull winter sky gloomed without, and a chilly 


MISS DOLLY. 


241 


wind sighed through the leafless elms; but within the 
Little room fairly glowed with the ruddy firelight that 
shone in the bright brasses, glimmered over the tar- 
nished silver of the quaint vests on the settle, and 
warmed the artist’s busy hand, as if it liked to help 
him in his task. But the jolly flames seemed to dance 
most lovingly about their little mistress ; bathing the 
sweet face with a softer bloom, touching the waves of 
brown hair with gold, peeping under the long lashes at 
the downcast eyes that peeped back again half arch, 
half shy; glorifying the blue apron that seemed to 
clasp the trim waist as if conscious of its advantages, 
and showing up the dimples in the bare arms working 
BO briskly that even the verdigris of ages yielded to 
their persuasive touch. 

“Who can this pretty Priscilla be? I must make 
her talk and find out. Never shall get the eyes right, 
if she doesn’t look up,” thought the artist, who, instead 
of devoting himself to the historical chair, was basely 
sketching the girl whose youth and beauty were won- 
derfully enhanced by the antiquity around her. 

“Mrs. Hill is a rich woman, if all these treasures 
have a history. Even if they haven’t, they would 
bring a good price ; for things of this sort are all the 
rage now, and the older the better,” he said aloud in a 
sociable tone, as he affected to study the left arm of 
the famous chair. 

“ They are not hers to sell, for they belonged to the 
first Mrs. Hill, who was a Quincy, and had a right to be 
proud of them. The present Mrs. Hill doesn’t value 
them a bit ; but she was a Smith, so her family relics 
are nothing to boast of,” answered the girl, using 
16 


242 


INDEPENDENCE. 


her bit of wash-leather as if the entire race of Smith 
ought to be rubbed out of existence. 

“ And she is going to sell all these fine old things, is 
she ?” asked the artist, with an eye to bargains. 

“No, indeed! they belong to — to the first Mrs. 
Hill’s daughter, named after her, Dorothy Quincy,” 
the girl began impetuously, but checked herself, and 
ended very quietly with a suddenly averted head. 

“A fine name, and I shouldn’t think she would be 
in haste to change it,” said the artist, wondering if Miss 
Dorothy Quincy was before him. 

“Not much hope of that, poor thing,” with a shake 
of the head that made several brown curls tumble out 
of the net which tried to confine a riotous mass of 
them. 

“Ah, I see, a spinster?” and the young man re- 
turned to his work with greatly abated interest in the 
subject. 

The bright eyes glanced quickly up, and when they 
fell the snufler-tray reflected a merry twinkle in them, 
as their owner answered gravely, — 

“ Yes, a spinster.” 

“ Is she one of the amiable sort ? ” 

“Oh, dear, no! very quick in her temper and 
sharp with her tongue. But then she has a good deal 
to try her, as I happen to know.” 

“ Sorry for that. Spinsterhood is trying, I fancy, so 
we should be patient with the poor old ladies. Wny 
I asked was because I thought I might induce Miss 
Dolly to let me have some of her relics. Do you think 
she would?” he asked, holding his sketch at arm’s 
length, and studying it with his head on one side. 


MISS DOLLY. 


243 


• Tm very sure she won’t, for these old things are all 
sne has in the world, and she loves them dearly. Peo- 
ple used to laugh at her for it, but now they are glad 
to own her and her ‘ duds,’ as they called them. The 
Smiths are looking up every thing they can find of 
that sort, even poor relations. All these things are 
going down to a fair to-morrow, and Miss Dolly with 
them.” 

“As one of the relics?” suggested the artist, glanc- 
ing at a green calash and a plum-colored quilted 
petticoat lying on the settle. 

“ filxactly,” laughed the girl, adding with a touch of 
bitterness in her voice, “ Poor Miss Dolly never got an 
invitation before, and I’m afraid it’s foolish of her to 
go n^w, since she is only wanted to show ofi* the old- 
fashiened things, and give the Smiths something to 
boast <)f.” 

“ Y ou are fond of the old lady in spite of her temper, 
I see.’ 

“ She IS the only friend I’ve got ; ” and the speaker 
bent over tbte tray as if to hide emotion of some sort. 

“I shaU probably have to ‘do’ that fair for our 
paper ; if so. I’ll certainly pay my respects to Miss Dolly. 
Why not? Is she so very awful?” he asked quickly, 
as the girl looked up with a curious mixture of mirth 
and malice in her face. 

“Very!” with a lifting of the brows and a pursing 
up of the lips delightful to behold. 

“You think I won’t dare address the peppery virgin ? 
I never saw the woman yet whom I was afraid of, or 
the man either for that matter, so I give you my word 
ril not only speak to Miss Dolly, but win her old heai;., 


244 


INDEPENDENCE 


by my admiration for her and her ancestral treasures, 
said the artist, accepting the challenge he read in the 
laughing eyes. 

“We shall see, for I’m going with her. I do the 
spinning, and it’s great fun,” said the girl, prudently 
changing the conversation, though she evidently en- 
joyed it. 

“ I never saw it done. Could you give me an idea 
of the thing, if it is not asking too much ? ” proposed 
the artist in his most persuasive tone, for somehow 
play of this sort was much more interesting than the 
study of old furniture. 

With amiable alacrity the girl set the big wheel buzz- 
ing, and deftly drew out the yarn from the spindle, 
stepping briskly to and fro, twirling and twisting with 
an ease and grace which convinced the admiring ob- 
server that the best thing ever invented to show off 
round arm, a pretty foot, a fine figure, and a charming 
face, was a spinning-wheel. 

This opinion was so plainly expressed upon his own 
countenance that the color deepened in the girl’s 
cheeks as she looked over her shoulder to see how 
he liked it, and dropping the thread she left the 
wheel still whirling, and went back to her work without 
a word. 

“ Thank you very much ; it’s beautiful I Don’t see 
how in the world you do it,” murmured the young man, 
affecting to examine the wheel, while his own head 
seemed to whirl in sympathy, for that backward glance 
had unconsciously done great execution. 

A moon-faced clock behind the door striking eleven 
recalled the idler to his task, and resuming his seat he 


MISS DOLLY, 


245 


drew silently till the chair was done; then he turned a 
page, and looked about for the next good bit. 

“ Rather warm work,” he said, smiling, as he shook 
the hair off his forehead, and pushed his chair back from 
the hearth. 

“This is what makes the place so hot. I’ve been 
learning to make old-fashioned dishes for the fair, and 
this batch is going down to show what I can do.” 

As she spoke, the girl threw open the door of a cav- 
ernous oven, and with an air of housewifely pride dis 
played a goodly array of brown loaves round as cannon- 
balls, earthen crocks suggestive of baked beans and 
Indian pudding, and near the door a pan of spicy cakes 
delectable to smell and see. These she drew forth and 
set upon the table, turning from the oven after a care- 
ful inspection of its contents with the complexion of 
a damask rose. 

“ Delicious spectacle ! ” exclaimed the artist, with 
his eyes upon the pretty cook, while hers were on her 
handiwork. 

“ You shall taste them, for they are made from a very 
old receipt and are called sweethearts,” said the inno- 
cent creature, setting them forth on a large platter, 
while a smile went dimpling round her lips. 

“ Capital name ! they’ll sell faster than you can make 
them. But it seems to me you are to have all the 
work, and Miss Dolly all the credit,” added this highly 
appreciative guest, subduing with difficulty the rash 
impulse to embrace Miss Dolly’s rosy handmaid on the 
spot. 

She seemed to feel the impending danger, and say- 
ing hastily, “You must have some cider to go with 


246 


INDEPENDENCE. 


your cake: that’s the correct thing, you know,’* she 
tripped away with hospitable zeal. 

“ Upon my soul, I begin to feel like the Prince of 
the fairy tale in this quiet place where every thing seems 
to have been asleep for a hundred years. The little 
beauty ought to have been asleep too, and given me a 
chance to wake her. More of a Cinderella than a prin* 
cess, I fancy, and leads a hard life of it between Miss 
Dolly and the second Mrs. Hill. Wonder what happy 
fellow will break the spell and set her free?” and the 
young man paced the kitchen, humming softly, — 

“ And on her lover’s arm she leant, 

And round her waist she felt it fold ; 

And far across the hills they went, 

In that new world which is the old,” 

till the sound of a light step made him dart into a 
chair, saying to himself with a sudden descent from 
poetry to prose, “ Bless her little heart. I’ll drink her 
cider if it’s as sour as vinegar.” 

In came the maid, bearing a tankard on a salver ; and, 
adding several sweethearts, she offered the homely 
lunch with a curtsey and a smile that would have glori- 
fied even pork and beans. 

“You are sitting in the General’s chair, and here is 
the tankard he used ; you can drink his health, if you 
like.” 

“ I’d rather drink that of the maker of sweethearts ; ” 
and, rising, the artist did so, gallantly regardless of con- 
sequences. 

But the cider was excellent, and subsiding into the 
immortal chair he enjoyed his lunch with the hearty 
appetite of a boy, while the damsel began to fold up 


MISS DOLLY. 


247 


the garments airing on the settle, and lay them into a 
chest standing near ; the one quite unconscious that he 
was drinking draughts of a far more potent liquor than 
apple-juice, the other that she had begun to spin a 
golden thread instead of yarn when she turned the 
great wheel that day. 

An eloquent sort of silence filled the room for a 
moment, and a ray of sunshine glanced from the silver 
tankard to the bright head bent over the chest, as if to 
gild the first page of the romance which is as fresh and 
sweet to-day as when the stately George wooed his 
beloved Martha. A shrill voice suddenly broke that 
delicious pause, exclaiming, as a door opened with a 
bang, ■— 

“Not packed yet ! I won’t have this rubbish clutter- 
ing round another minute — ” There the voice abruptly 
fell, and the stranger had time to see a withered, yel- 
low face in a pumpkin hood stare sharply at him before 
it vanished with an exclamation of unmistakable dis- 
approval. 

“Miss Dolly seems more afraid of me than I of her, 
you see,” began the young man, much amused at the 
retreat of the enemy ; for such he regarded any one 
who disturbed this delightful tUe-d-tite. 

“ She has only gone to put her cap on, and when she 
comes back you can pay your respects to — Mrs. Hill ; ” 
and the girl looked over the lid of the chest with 
dancing eyes. 

“ Then I’d better be off*, since reporters and artists 
are not allowed on the premises,” exclaimed the visitor, 
rising with more haste than dignity. 

“ Don’t hurry ; she is only a woman, and you are nol 
afraid, you know ” 


248 


INDEPENDENCE, 


“ I’m afraid you will get a scolding,” began the artisti 
pocketing his sketch-book, and grasping his hat. 

“I’m used to that,” answered the girl, evidently 
enjoying the rout with naughty satisfaction. 

But the sharp, black eyes and the shrill voice had 
effectually broken the pleasant day-dream; and Mrs, 
Hill in a pumpkin hood was quite enough for his 
nerves, without a second appearance in one of the awe- 
inspiring caps such ladies affect. 

“ I couldn’t think of repaying your kindness by in- 
truding any longer, now that I’ve got my sketch. A 
thousand thanks; good-morning;” and, opening the 
first door he came to, the dismayed man was about to 
plunge into the buttery, when the girl arrested his 
flight and led him through the long hall. 

On the steps he took breath, returned thanks again 
with grateful warmth, and pulling out a card presented 
it,^s if anxious to leave some token behind which should 
prevent being forgotten by one person at least. 

“John Hancock Harris ” read the card, and glancing 
up from it, with sudden interest in her eyes, the girl 
exclaimed impulsively, — 

“ Why, then you must be a relation of — ” 

“ No, I regret to say I’m not related to the famous 
Governor, only named for him to please my father. 
I’ve always been contented with a modest initial until 
now ; but this year every one does their best to hang 
on to the past, so I’ve got proud of my middle name, 
and find it useful as well as ornamental,” hastily ex- 
plained the honest young fellow, though just then he 
would have liked to claim kinship with every rnembei 
of the Continental Congress. 


A CINDER AND A SPARK, 


249 


“ I hope you will be worthy of it,” answered the 
damsel with a little bow, as if saluting the man for his 
name’s sake. 

“I try to be,” he said soberly, adding with that 
engaging smile of his, “ May I ask to whom I am in- 
debted for this very profitable and agreeable call ? ” 
Instantly the sweet sobriety vanished, and every 
feature of the pretty face shone with mirthful malice 
as the girl answered sweetly, — 

“ Miss Dolly. Good-morning,” and closed the door, 
leaving him to stare blankly at the griffin on the knocker, 
which appeared to stare back again with a derisive 
grin. 


CHAPTER II. 

A CINDER AND A SPARK. 

One of the few snow-storms of the memorably mild 
winter of 1876 was coming quietly down, watched with 
lazy interest by the passengers in a certain train that 
rumbled leisurely toward the city. Without it was cold 
and wintry enough, but within as hot as an oven ; for, 
with the usual American disregard of health, there was 
a roaring fire in the stove, every ventilator shut, 
and only one man in the crowded car had his window 
open. 

Toward this reckless being many a warning or re- 
proachful glance was cast by rheumatic old gentlemen 
9 r delicate women who led the lives of hot-house 


250 


INDEPENDENCE. 


flowers. But the hearty young fellow sat buried in 
his newspapers, regardless alike of these expressive 
glances and the fresh wind that blew in an occasional 
snow-flake to melt upon his shoulder, hair, or beard. 

If his face had not been obscured by the great sheet 
held before it, an observer might have watched with 
interest the varying expressions of amusement, con- 
tempt, indignation, and disgust which passed over it as 
he read; for it was a very expressive face, and too 
young yet to have put on the mask men so soon 
learn to wear. He was evidently .one of the strong^ 
cheery, sympathetic sort of fellows who make their 
way everywhere, finding friends as they go from the 
simple fact that they are so full of courage and good- 
will it is impossible to resist them. This had been 
proved already; for during that short journey three old 
ladies had claimed his services in one way or another, 
a shy little girl had sat upon his knee for half an hour 
and left him with a kiss, and an obstreperous Irish 
baby had been bribed to hold its tongue by the various 
allurements he devised, to the great amusement, as 
well as gratitude, of his neighbors. 

Just now, however, he looked rather grim, knit 
his brows as he read, and finally kicked his paper 
under the seat with an expression which proved that 
he had as much energy as kindliness in his composition, 
and no taste for the sorrowful record of scandal, dis- 
honesty, and folly daily oflered the American public. 

“ Upon my word, if this sort of thing goes on much 
longer, the country won’t be fit for a decent man to 
live in,” he said to himself, taking a mouthful of fresh 
air, and letting his eyes wander over the faces of his 


A CINDER AND A SPARK. 


251 


fellow-travellers as if wondering which of the emi- 
nently respectable gentlemen about him wculd next 
startle the world by some explosion of iniquity. Even 
the women did not escape the scrutiny of the keen 
blue eyes, which softened, however, as they went from 
one possible Delilah to another ; for John Harris had 
not yet lost his reverence for womankind. 

Suddenly his wandering glance was arrested, a look 
of recognition brightened his whole countenance, and 
an involuntary “ Hullo ! ” rose to his lips, instead of the 
romantic “ Ha, ’tis she ! ” with which novel heroes are 
supposed to greet the advent of the charmer. 

The object which w^rought so swift and pleasant a 
change in the young man’s mood and manner was a 
giiTs face seen in profile some seats in fi’ont of him. 
A modest little hat with a sweeping feather rested 
easily on a mass of wavy hair, which was not spoilt by 
any fashionable device, but looped up in a loose sort of 
braid from wdiich rebellious tendrils here and there 
escaped to touch her white throat or shade her tem- 
ples. One particularly captivating little curl twined 
round her ear and seemed to be whispering some 
pleasant secret, for the blooming cheek dimpled now 
and then, the soft lips smiled, and the eyes were full of 
a dreamy thoughtfulness. A bpok lay in her lap, but 
her own fancies seemed more interesting, and she sat 
watching the snow-flakes flutter down, lost in one of 
the delightful reveries girls love, quite unconscious of 
the admiration of her neighbors, or the fixed stare 
of the young man behind her. 

“ Miss Dolly, by all that’s good ! ” he said to himself, 
suddenly forgetting the sins of his native land, and 


252 


INDEPENDENCE. 


finding it quite possible to stop a little longer in it. ‘‘ She 
said she was going to town with the old things, and 
there she is, prettier than ever. If it hadn’t been for 
those provoking papers, I should have seen her w'hen 
she got in, and might have secured a seat by her. 
That stout party evidently doesn’t appreciate his ad- 
vantages. I can’t order him out, but I’ll watch my 
chance, for I really ought to apologize for my stupidity 
yesterday. Wonder if she has forgotten all about it?” 

And John fell into a reverie likewise, for he was in 
just the mood to enjoy any thing so innocent and fresh 
and sweet as the memory of little Dolly at her spin- 
ning-wheel. It all came back to him with a redoubled 
charm, for there was a home-like warmth and sim- 
plicity about it that made the recollection very pleasant 
to a solitary fellow knocking about the world with no 
ties of any sort to keep him safe and steady. He felt 
the need of them, and was all ready to give away his 
honest heart, if he could find any amiable creature who 
could be satisfied with that alone, for he had nothing 
else to offer. He was rather fastidious, however, having 
an artist’s refined taste in the matter of beauty, and 
a manly man’s love of the womanliness which shows 
Itself in character, not clothes. But he had few oppor- 
tunities to discover his ideal woman, and no desire to 
worship a fashion plate, so here was an excellent heart 
to let, and no one knew it, unless they had the skill to 
read the notice in the window. 

The reveries of both young people were rudely dis- 
turbed by the “stout party,” who having finished his 
paper, and taken a comprehensive survey of his 
thoughtful little neighbor, suddenly began to talk as if 


A CINDER AND A STARK. 


253 


he did “appreciate his advantages,” and meant to 
make the most of them. 

John watched this performance with deep interest, 
and it soon became rather exciting ; for Miss Dolly’s 
fice was a tell-tale, and plainly betrayed the rapid 
transitions of feeling through which she passed. The 
respectful attention she at first gave in deference to the 
age of the speaker changed to sur2:)rise, then to annoy- 
ance, lastly to girlish confusion and distress ; for the 
old gentleman was evidently of the Pecksniffian order, 
and took advantage of his gray hairs to harass the 
pretty damsel with his heavy gallantry. 

Poor Miss Dolly looked vainly about her for any 
means of escape, but every seat was full, and she was 
quite unconscious that an irate young man behind her 
was burning to rush to the rescue if he had only 
known how. As no way appeared, John was forced to 
content himself with directing such fiery glances at the 
broad back of the ancient beau it was a wonder they 
did not act like burning-glasses and set that expanse 
of broadcloth in a blaze. 

A crisis soon arrived, and woman’s wit turned the 
tables capitally ; for when the old gentleman confis- 
cated her book under pretence of looking at it, and 
then, laying his arm over the back of the seat, went on 
talking with a fat smile that exasperated her beyond 
endurance, Dolly gave him one indignant glance and 
opened her window, letting in a blast of cold air that 
made her tormentor start and shiver as if she had 
boxed his ears. 

“ Good ! if that does not rout the enemy, I’m m nch 
mistaken,” said John to himself, enjoying it all with the 


INDEPENDENCE, 


relish of a young man who sees an old one usurj)ing hii 
privileges. 

The enemy was not routed, but his guns were silenced ; 
for, having expostulated with paternal solicitude, he 
turned up his coat-collar and retired behind his paper, 
evidently much disgusted at finding that two could 
play at the game of annoyance, though the girl had to 
call the elements to her aid. 

“ If I dared. I’d offer to change seats with him ; not 
because he is suffering agonies at the idea of getting 
tic-douloureux or a stiff neck, that would only serve him 
right, but because she will get the worst of it. There, 
she has already ! Confound that cinder ! why didn’t it 
go into his eye instead of hers?” added John, as he saw 
the girl shrink suddenly, and begin to wink and rub 
her eye with distressful haste, while the “ stout party ” 
took advantage of the mishap to close the window with 
an expression of vengeful satisfaction on his rubicund 
visage. He offered no help, for his first rebuff still 
rankled in his memory, but placidly twirled his thumbs, 
with a sidelong glance now and then at his companion, 
who, finding all her winking and rubbing in vain, 
shrouded her face in a veil, and sat a pathetic picture 
of beauty in distress, with an occasional tear rolling 
over her cheek and her dear little nose reddening 
rapidly with the general inflammation caused by that 
fatal cinder. 

This affecting spectacle was too much for John, who 
not only felt the chivalrous desire of a man to help the 
gentle sex, but remembered that he owed the girl a 
good turn for her hospitality the day before, not to 
mention the apology he quite burned to make. Know* 


jS cinder and a srark. 


S56 


ing that the train would soon stop a few minutes for 
the passengers to lunch, he resolved then and there to 
cast himself into the breach and deliver the doubly 
afflicted damsel at all costs. 

Happily the station was reached before any great 
damage was done to the girl’s features, or the young 
man’s impatience became uncontrollable. The instant 
the stout gentleman rose to seek refreshment John 
dived for his valise, and, cleaving his way through the 
crowded aisle, presented himself beside the empty place, 
asking, with an attempt to look and speak like a stranger, 
which would not have deceived Dolly a bit, had she not 
been half-blind, “ Is this seat engaged, madam ? ” 

“No, sir,” she answered, unveiling to discover what 
new affliction fate had sent her. 

It was delightful to see the one wistful eye light up 
with a look of recognition, the one visible cheek flush 
with pleasure, and the lips smile as they added, with 
the impulsive frankness of a tormented girl, “ Oh, 
please take it quickly, or that dreadful man will come 
back ! ” 

Quite satisfied with his welcome, John slipped into 
the coveted place, resolving to keep it in spite of a 
dozen stout gentlemen. 

“ Thanks, now what else can I do for you ? ” he 
asked, with such an evident desire to lend a hand some- 
where that it was impossible to decline his services. 

“ Could you take this thing out of my eye? It 
hurts dreadfully, and I shall be a spectacle by the time 
I get to Aunt Maria’s,” answered Dolly, with a little 
moan that rent the hearer’s susceptible heart. 

“ That is just what I want to do, and you may trust 


256 


INDEPENDENCE. 


me ; for IVe been a great traveller, and have had much 
experience in the extraction of cinders,” said John, 
adding, as he produced a pencil in a capable sort of 
way, “ now open your eye wide, and we’ll have it out 
in a jiffy.” 

Dolly obeyed with a courage and confidence most 
flattering, and John peered into the suffering eye with 
an intensity which it was impossible for the most artful 
cinder to escape. 

“ I see it ! ” he cried, and turning back th^ lid over 
his pencil he delicately removed the black atom with 
a corner of Dolly’s veil. 

It was all over in an instant, and both displayed 
great nerve and coolness during the operation ; but, as 
soon as it was done, Dolly retired into her handkerchief, 
and John found himself as flushed and breathless as if 
he had faced some great danger, instead of merely look- 
ing into a girl’s eye. Ah ! but it was a very eloquent 
eye in spite of the cinder, — large and soft, tearful and 
imploring, and the instant during which he had bent 
to examine it had been a most exciting one ; for the 
half-open lips were so near his own their hurried breath 
fanned his cheek, the inquisitive little curl tumbled 
over her ear to touch his wrist as he held up the eyelid, 
and a small hand had unconsciously clutched softly at 
his ann during the inspection. Bless you ! the famous 
scene between Uncle Toby and the Widow Wadman 
was entirely surpassed on this occasion, because the 
actors were both young and neither artful. 

“Such relief!” sighed Dolly, emerging from a brief 
retirement, with a face so full of gratitude that it was 
like a burst of sunshine after an eclipse. 


A CINDER AND A SPARK. 


257 


“Let me see if it is all right;” and John could not 
resist another look into the clear depths through which 
he seemed to catch delicious glimpses of an innocent 
young heart before maiden modesty drew the curtaiu 
and shut him out. As the long lashes fell, a sudden 
color in her cheeks seemed to be reflected upon his, 
and with a hasty, — 

“ It is a good deal inflamed, so I’m going to prescribe 
a wet bandage for a few minutes, if you can spare your 
handkerchief,” — he hurried away to the water tank 
near by. 

“ That’s very comforting. Thank you so much ! ” 
and Dolly patted her invalid eye assiduously; while 
John, feeling that he had earned his place, planted his 
valise on the seat with a defiant glance over his shoulder, 
then turned to Dolly, saying, “ You must have some 
lunch,” and waiting for no denial dashed out of the car 
as if on an errand of life and death. 

He was gone but a moment or two ; but in that time 
Dolly had smoothed her hair, retied her hat, whisked 
a nicer pair of gloves out of her pocket, and taken a 
rapid survey of herself in a tiny glass concealed from 
other eyes in the recesses of her bag. She had just 
time to close and cast the aforesaid bag recklessly upon 
the floor as her knight came up, bearing a cup of tea 
and a block of cake, saying in the pleasantly protecting 
way all women like, — 

“ Dr. Harris prescribes refreshment after the opera- 
tion, and this is the best he can find. Your aged 
admirer was at the counter, eating against time and 
defying apoplexy,” he added with a laugh, as Dolly 
gratefully sipped the tea, which, by the way, was a« 
17 


258 


INDErENDENCK. 


weak as that made at the famous Boston tea-party, 
when, as every one knows, water was liberally used. 

“You saw him, then, when he was plaguing me? ” 

“I did, and longed to throw him out of the win- 
dow.” 

“ Thanks. Did you recognize me before you spoke ? ” 

“ Of course I did, and wanted to approach, but didn I 
dare till the cinder gave me an excuse.” 

“ The idea of being afraid of me / ” 

“ How could I help being afraid, when you told me 
Miss Dolly was ‘awful’?” asked John, twinkling with 
fun, as he sat on the arm of a seat sociably eating a 
sandwich, which under other circumstances would have 
struck him as being a remarkable combination of saw- 
dust and sole-leather. 

Before Dolly could reply except by a guilty blush, a 
bell rang, and John hurried away with the empty cup. 

A moment or two later the stout gentleman ap- 
peared, wiping his mouth, evidently feeling in a better 
humor, and ready to make up with his pretty neigh- 
bor. Smiling blandly, he was about to remove the 
valise, when Miss Dolly laid her hand upon it, saying 
with great dignity, “ This seat is engaged, sir. There 
are plenty of others now, and I wish this for my 
friend.” 

Here John, who was just behind, seeing his prize in 
danger, gave a gentle shove to several intervening 
fellow-beings, who in turn propelled the “ stout party ” 
past the disputed place, which the young man took 
with an air of entire satisfaction, and a hearty “ Thank 
you!” whicl told Dolly he had overheard her little 
speech. 


A CINDER AND A SPARK, 


259 


She colored beautifully, but said with grateful frank- 
ness, — 

“ It wasn’t a fib : a friend in need is a friend indeed, 
and in return for the cinder I’m glad to give you a 
Beat.” 

“ Blessed be the cinder, then ! ” murmured John, 
feeling at peace with all mankind. Then taking advan- 
tage of the propitious moment, he added in a peniten- 
tial tone, — 

“ I want to apologize for my stupidity and uninten- 
tional rudeness yesterday.” 

“About what ?” asked Dolly, innocently, though her 
eyes began to sparkle with amusement. 

“ Why, taking it into my head that Miss Hill must 
be oldish, and going on in that absurd way about 
spinsters.” 

“Well, I am a spinster, and not so young as I have 
been. P ought to apologize for not telling you who I 
was ; but it was so very funny to hear you go on in that 
sober way to my face, I couldn’t spoil it,” said the girl, 
with a look that upset John’s repentant gravity ; and 
they laughed together as only the young and happy 
can. 

“ It is very good of you to take it so kindly, but 1 
assure you it weighed upon my conscience, and it is a 
great relief to beg pardon,” he said, feeling as if they 
had been friends for years. 

“ Have you been sketching old things ever since ? ” 
asked Dolly, changing the conversation with womanly 
tact. 

“Yes: I went to several places further on, but 
didn’t find any thing half so good as your chair and 


260 


INDEPENDENCE. 


tankard. I suppose you are taking the relics to town 
now?” 

“All but one.” 

“ Which is that ? ” 

“The pumpkin hood. It is the only thing my step- 
mother admires among my treasures, and she would 
not give it up. You rather admired it, didn’t you?” 
asked Dolly, with her demurest air. 

“ I deserve to be laughed at for my panic,” answered 
John, owning up manfully ; then pulled out his sketch- 
book, with an eye to business even in the middle of a 
joke. 

“ See here ! I tried to get that venerable hood into 
my sketch, but couldn’t quite hit it. Perhaps you can 
help me.” 

“ Let me see them all,” said Dolly, taking possession 
of the book with a most flattering air of interest. 

“Nothing there but queer or famous things, all a 
hundred years old at least,” began J ohn, quite forgetting 
his stolen sketch of a pretty girl cleaning a snufier-tray, 
which he had worked up with great care the night 
before. Perhaps this made the book open at that 
particular page, for, as the words left his lips, Dolly’s 
eyes fell on her own flgure, too well done to be mis- 
taken, even if the artist’s face had not betrayed him. 

“ What ‘ queer ’ or ‘ famous ’ old person of the last 
century is that, please ? ” she asked, holding it ofi*, and 
looking at it through her hand, while her lips broke 
Into a smile in spite of her efibrts to look unconscious. 

Knowing that a pretty woman will easily forgive a 
liberty of that sort, John got out of the scrape hand- 
lomely by answering with mock gravity, — 


A CINDER AND A SEARK. 


261 


“ Ob, that’s Madam Hancock, when a girl. Did you 
never see the famous portrait at Portsmouth ? ” 

“ N o. The dress is rather modern, and not quite in 
keeping with the antique chair she is sitting in,” ob- 
served the girl, critically. 

“ That’s to be added later. I have to work up things, 
you know, — a face here, a costume there, and so on : aU 
artists do.” 

“ So I see. There’s the hood ; but it wants a cape,” 
and Dolly turned the leaf, as much amused at his 
quickness as flattered by his compliment. 

There were not many sketches as yet, but she ad- 
mired them all, and, when the book was shut, chatted 
on about antiquities, feeling quite friendly and comfort- 
able ; for there was respect, as well as admiration, in 
the honest blue eyes, and the young man did not 
offend as the old one had done. 

“As you are interested in curiosities, perhaps you 
may like to see some that 1 have here in my bag. 1 
am very fond and proud of them, because they are 
genuine, and have histories of old times attached to 
them,” she said presently. 

“ I shall feel much honored by being allowed to look 
at them,” replied the artist, remembering that “ people 
used to laugh at poor Miss Dolly and her ‘duds.’” 

“This little pin, made of two hearts in diamonds and 
rubies, with a crown above, used to be worn by my 
mother’s great aunt. Madam Hancock. She was a 
Quincy, you know. And this long garnet buckle 
fastened the Governor’s stock,” began Dolly, displaying 
her store with a gentle pride pleasant to see. 

“ Most interesting ! but I can’t helj) feeling gratefiil 


262 


INDEPENDENCE. 


that this J. H. doesn’t have to wear a stock requiring 
a foot-long buckle like that,” answered John, picturing 
hims-elf in the costume of the past century, and won- 
dering if it would suit his manly face and figure. 

“ N ow don’t laugh at this relic, for it is very curious, 
though you won’t appreciate it as a woman would ; ’* 
and Dolly unfolded an old-fashioned housewife of red 
velvet, lined with faded yellow damask. “ That was 
made by my dear mother out of a bit of the velvet 
lining of the Governor’s state-coach, and the coverlet 
that a French Comte tore with his spurs.” 

“ Come, that sounds well ! I appreciate coaches and 
spurs, if I’m not up to brooches and needle-books. 
Tell the story, please,” besought John, who found it the 
most delightful thing in the world to sit there, following 
the pretty motions of the small hands, the changeful 
expression of the winsome face, and enjoying the com- 
panionship of the confiding creature beside him. 

“ Well, you see, when Madam married Captain Scott 
many of the Governor’s things were taken from her, 
among them the state-coach. By the way, it is said to 
be in existence now, stored away in somebody’s barn 
down in Portland. You had better go and sketch it,” 
began Dolly, smoothing out the old housewife, and 
evidently glad to tell the little story of the ancestress 
whom she was said to resemble, though she modestly 
refrained from mentioning a fact of which she was 
immensely proud. 

“I will!” and John soberly made a memorandum 
to visit the ancient coach. 

“When my great-great aunt was told she must 
give up the «’.arriage, she ripped out the new velvet 


A CINDER AND A STARK. 


263 


lining, wliich had been put in at her expense, and 
gave the bits to her various nieces. Mother made 
a spenoer of hers, and when it was worn out kept 
enough for this needle-book. The lining is a scrap of 
the yellow damask counterpane that was on the bed 
in which the Frenchman should have slept when he 
came with Lafayette to visit Madam, only he was so 
tipsy he laid on the outside, and tore the fine cover 
with his spurs. There’s a nice Comte fcr youl ” 

“ I’d like to see the spurs, nevertheless. Any more 
treasures?” and John peered into the bag, as if he 
thirsted for more antiquarian knowledge. 

“ Only one, and this is the most valuable of all. 
Stoop down and look : I’m afraid I may be robbed, if I 
display my things carelessly.” 

John obediently bent till the sweeping feather of her 
hat touched his cheek, to the great annoyance of the 
banished peri, who viewed these pleasant passages from 
afar with much disfavor. 

“ This is said to be Madam’s wedding ring. I like 
to think so, and am very proud to be named for her, 
because she was a good woman as well as a” — 

“ Beauty,” put in John, as the speaker paused to open 
a faded case in which lay a little ring of reddish gold. 

“ I was going to say — as well as a brave one ; for 
I need courage,” added the girl, surveying the old- 
fashioned trinket with such a sober face that the young 
man refrained from alluding to the remarkable coinci- 
dence of another John and Dolly looking at the wed- 
ding ring together. 

She seemed to have forgotten all about her com- 
panion for a moment, and be busy with her own 


264 


INDEPENDENCE. 


thoughts, as she put away her treasures with a car« 
wOiich made it a pleasure to watch her tie knots, ad- 
just covers, repack her little hag, and finally fold hei 
hands over it, saying gravely, — 

“ I love to think about those times ; for it seems ai 
if people-were better then, — the men more honest, the 
women more womanly, and every thing simpler and 
truer than now. Does it ever seem so to you ? ” 

“ Indeed it does ; for this very day, as I read the 
papers, I got quite low-spirited, thinking 'what a shame- 
ful state things have got into. Money seems to be the 
one idea, and men are ready to sell their souls for it,” 
answered John, as soberly as she. 

“ Money is a good thing to have, though ; ” and 
Dolly gave a little sigh, as she drew her scarf over the 
worn edges of her jacket. 

“ So it is ! ” echoed John, with the hearty acquiescence 
of a man who had felt the need of it. 

“ My name and these old treasures are all my fortune, 
and I used to be contented with it ; but I’m not now, 
dependence is so hateful ! ” added the girl, impulsively ; 
then bit her lip, as if the words had escaped in spite 
of her. 

“ And this is all mine,” said John, twirling the pencil 
which he still held ; giving confidence for confidence, 
and glad to do it, if it made them better friends, for he 
pitied little Miss Dolly, suspecting what was true, that 
her home was not a happy one. 

She thanked him mutely for the kind look he gave 
her, and said prettily, — 

“Skill is money; and it must be a very pleasant 
life to go about drawing beautiful or curious things.” 


A CINDER AND A SPARK. 


265 


“ So it is sometimes, — yesterday, for instance,” he 
answered, laughing. 

“ J"have no modern accomplishments to earn a living 
by. Mine are all old-fashioned ; and no one cares for 
such nowadays, except in servants. 1 may be very 
glad of them, though ; for playing lady doesn’t seem 
half so honest as going out to service, when one has 
nothing but an empty pair of hands,” she said with a 
wistful yet courageous look at the wintiy world out- 
side, which made her companion feel a strong desire to 
counsel and protect this confiding young Columbus, 
who knew so little of the perils which would beset her 
voyage in search of a woman’s El Dorado. 

“ Come to me for a recommendation before you try 
it. I can vouch for your cooking, you know. But I’d 
advise you to play lady till you discover a good safe 
place. I don’t believe you’ll find it hard, for the world 
is likely to be very kind to such as you,” he answered, 
so cheerily that she brightened like a flower to which 
a stray sunbeam is very welcome. 

A shrill whistle announced that the journey was 
over, and everybody began at once to fuss and fumble. 
John got up to take his valise from the rack, and Dolly 
began to struggle into her rubbers. She was still 
bending down to do this, with as little damage as 
possible to her best gloves, when she heard a sounding 
slap and a hearty voice cry out, — 

“ Hullo, John ! ” then add in a lower tone, “ So there 
is a Mrs. Harris, you sly dog, you ? ” 

“Hush! there isn’t. How are you, George?” re- 
turned another voice, beginning in a hurried whispei 
and ending in an unnecessarily loud salutation. 


266 


INDEPENDENCE. 


What happened for a minute or two after that Dolly 
did not know ; for the rubbers proved so refractory that 
she only rose fi*om the encounter flushed and hurried, 
as the train entered the station. 

“Let me make myself useful in looking after your 
baggage,” said her self-constituted escort, handing her 
out with great respect and care. 

“Thank you : all my things come by express, so I’ve 
nothing to do but get into a carriage.” 

“Then allow me to see you safely there, for the sake 
of the treasures, if nothing else ; ” and John led her away, 
utterly ignoring the presence of “ George,” who stood 
looking after them, with a face full of good-humored 
interest and amusement. 

“ I’m very much obliged. Good-by,” said Dolly, from 
the coach window. 

“Not good-by: I’m coming to the fair, you know,” 
answered John, lingering at the door as if loath to lose 
sight of his little friend. 

“ I forgot all about it ! ” 

“ I didn’t ; for I depend on the cakes and ale and all 
the other good things promised me.” 

“You will find them there,” with a smile, and then 
a sudden blush as she remembered that he had not 
only agreed to speak to “ Miss Dolly,” but to “ win her 
old heart.” 

He remembered also, and laughed as he bowed with 
the same audacious look he had worn when he made 
that rash vow. 

“ I wonder if he will come ? ” thought the girl, as she 
drove away. 

“ As if I should forget I ” said John to himself, as he 


CONFIDENTIAL, 


267 


trudged through the snow, quite regardless of his wait- 
ing friend ; for from the little cinder had been kindled 
a spark of the divine fire that moves one of tJie great 
engines which transport mankind all the world over. 


CHAPTER IH. 

CONFIDENTIAL. 

John Harris promised to “do” the fair, and kept 
his word handsomely ; for he was there every day for a 
week, lunching in the old-fashioned kitchen, and then, 
in his ofiScial capacity, sketching every relic he could 
lay his eyes on. Such punctuality caused the pretty 
waiters to smile afiably upon this faithful devourer of 
primitive viands, and the matrons to predict great things 
from the young artist’s application to his work. 

Little guessed the girls and the gossips that love was 
ravaging their generous patron’s heart more persistently 
than he did their tables, and that nature not art caused 
his devotion to modern beauty rather than ancient 
ugliness For all John saw in the crowd that filled 
the place vas Dolly, tripping to and fro tray in hand, 
spinning at her wheel, or resting beside Aunt Maria, 
twin sister of Mrs. Hill, in an imposing cap instead of 
the pumpkin hood. Pretty Dolly was the belle of the 
kitchen; for she alone of all the dozen damsels on duty 
looked her part, and was in truth a country girl, rich in 
the old-fashioned gifts and graces of health, modesty, 


268 


INDEPENDENCE. 


liouse wifely skill, and the sweet maidenliness which 
girls who come out at sixteen soon lose for ever. Her 
dress, too, was wonderfully complete and becoming, 
though only a pink and white chintz, a mob-cap, and an 
uncompromising apron, with the pin-ball, scissors, keys, 
and linen pocket hanging at the side. The others 
looked like stage soubrettes, and acted like coquettish 
young ladies who knew nothing about their work. 
But Dolly was genuine throughout, so she proved a 
great success; and Aunt Maria took all the credit of / 
it to herself, felt that she had done a good thing in 
bringing so much youth, energy, and loveliness to 
market, and expressed her satisfaction by talking a 
great deal about “ our family,” which, as she was a 
Smith, was certainly large enough to furnish endless 
gossip. 

Another person watched, admired, and hovered 
about the girl like a blue-bottle fly about a rose ; and 
that was Mr. Aaron Parker, a dapper little man of fifty, 
who, having made a snug fortune, was now anxious to 
marry and settle. Aunt Maria was evidently his confi- 
dant and friend ; and it was soon apparent that Aunt 
Maria intended to make a match between her niece and 
this amiable gentleman, who set about his wooing with 
old-fashioned formality and deliberation. 

All this John saw, heard, or divined with the keen* 
ness of a lover, while he watched the events of that 
week; for he very soon made up his mind that he 
adored “ Miss Dolly,” as he always called her to him- 
self. The short time which had elapsed between the 
car episode and the opening of the fair seemed endless 
to him ; and, when he came beaming into the kitchen 


CONFIDENTIAL, 


269 


the very first day, his heart sang for joy at sight of 
that bonny face once more. She welcomed him so 
kindly, served him so prettily, and showed such frank 
and friendly pleasure at meeting him again, that the 
lonely fellow felt as if he had suddenly found a large 
find attached family, and yielded to the charm without 
a struggle. She seemed to belong to him somehow, as 
if he had discovered her, and had the first right to 
admire, help, and love her ; for he alone of all the men 
there had seen her at home, had looked deepest into 
the shy, bright eyes, and heard her call him “ friend.” 

This delightful state of things lasted for a few days, 
during which he felt as if quafiing nectar and tasting 
ambrosia, while he drank the promised cider and ate 
the spicy “ sweethearts ” which Dolly always brought 
him with a smile that went directly to his head, and 
produced a delicious sort of intoxication. He never 
could have but a word or two, she was so busy ; but, 
as he sat apart, pretending to sketch, he was living ovei 
those brief, blissful moments, and concocting wonder- 
fully witty, wise, or tender speeches for the morrow. 

Well for him that no one looked over his shoulder at 
such times, for his portfolio would have betrayed him, 
since it was a wild jumble of andirons and mob-caps> 
antique pepper-pots and pretty profiles, spinning-wheels, 
*nd large eyes with a profusion of lash ; while a dainty 
pair of feet in high-heeled slippers seemed to dance 
from page after page, as if the artist vainly sought to 
exorcise some persistent fancy by booking it over and 
over again. 

Suddenly a change appeared both in the man and in 
his work ; for Parker had arrived, and clouds began to 


270 


INDEPENDENCE. 


gather on the horizon which was rosy with the dawn 
of love. Now John discovered that the cider was sour 
and the cake stale, for the calls of a voracious rival 
cruelly abbreviated his moments of bliss. Now he 
glared and brooded in corners where once he had 
revelled in dreams of a dim but delightful future. Now 
the pages of his sketch-book bore grotesque likenesses 
of a round, snub-nosed countenance in all sorts of queer 
places, such as a clock-face, under a famous cocked hat, 
or peeping out of a memorable warming-pan ; while a 
dapper figure was seen in various trying attitudes, the 
most frequent being prone before the dancing feet, one 
of which was usually spurning a fat money-bag, with 
contempt in every line of the pretty slipper. 

At this stage, the fair ended, and Aunt Maria bore 
the charmer away, leaving John to comfort himself 
with the memory of a parting look of regret from 
behind Governor Hancock’s punch-bowl, which Dolly 
embraced with one arm, while the other guarded 
Madam’s best china tea-pot. 

Maddening was it to haunt the street before Aunt 
Maria’s door, and hear a gay voice singing inside fit to 
melt a paving stone, to say nothing of a young man’s 
heart. More maddening still to catch occasional 
glimpses of the girl shut up in a carriage with the 
dj’agon, or at concerts and theatres under the escort 
of Mr. Parker. But most maddening of all was the 
fi-equent spectacle of this enamoured gentleman trot- 
ting up the street, simpering to himself as he went, and 
freely entering at the door which shut the younger 
lover out of Paradise. 

At such trying periods, John (now very far gone 


CONFIDENTIAL. 


271 


Indeed, for love feeds on air) would feel a wild desire 
to knock the little man down, storm Aunt Maria’s man- 
sion, and carry his Dolly away from what he felt 
assured was an irksome bondage to the girl. But, alas 1 
where could he carry the dear creature when he had 
got her? For all the home he possessed was one room 
in a dull boarding-house, and his only fortune the 
salary his pencil earned him. Then, as he groaned over 
these sad facts, a great temptation would assail him; 
for he remembered that with a word he could work 
the miracle which would give him half a million, and 
make all things possible but the keeping of his own 
self-respect. 

Hard times just then for John Harris ; and for some 
weeks he went about his daily duties with such a 
divided mind and troubled spirit that the stoniest 
heart might have pitied him. But comfort came when 
least expected, and in trying to help another he got 
help himself and hope beside. 

One gusty March morning he arrayed himself in his 
best, put a posy in his buttonhole, and went gallantly 
away to Aunt Maria’s door, bound to make a call in 
spite of her frowns at the fair, and evident desire to 
ignore his existence since. Boldly ringing the forbid- 
den bell, he inquired for the ladies. Both were 
engaged ; and, as if nothing should be wanting to his 
chagrin, as he went down the steps Mr. Parker., bear- 
ing a suggestive bouquet, went up and was instantly 
admitted. 

It was too much for poor John, who rushed away 
into the park, and pulling his hat over his eyes tramped 
wrathfully down the mall, muttering to himself, — 


272 


INDEPENDENCE. 


“ It’s no use ; I must give in ; for with a fortune in 
my pocket I could carry all before me, — bribe Aunt 
Maria, outbid Aaron, and win my Dolly, if I’m not 
much mistaken.” 

Just then a sharp yelp roused him from his excited 
reverie, and looking up he found that he had kicked a 
fat poodle, who was waddling slowly along, while some 
way before him went a little figure in a gray hat, at 
eight of which John’s heart gave a leap. Here was 
bliss ! Dolly alone at last, and he could defy the 
dragon and all her machinations. Parker and his fine 
bouquet were nowhere ; Harris and his buttonhole 
posy had the best of it now; and, leaving the fat 
poodle to whine and waddle at its own sweet will, the 
happy man hurried forward to make the most of this 
propitious moment. 

As he drew near, he observed that a handkerchief 
went more than once to the face which drooped in a 
thoughtful way as the feet paced slowly on. 

“ Bless her heart ! she is catching cold, and dreaming 
dreams, here all alone,” thought John, as, stepping to 
her side, he said gently, that he might not startle her, 
“ Good-morning, Miss Dolly.” 

He did startle her, nevertheless, and himself as well ; 
for, as she turned quickly, he saw that her face was 
bathed in tears. Instantly all his own troubles took 
wing ; and, with no thought but how to comfort her, he 
»»aid impetuously, — 

“ I beg pardon, but do tell me what is the matter ? ” 
He came upon her so suddenly that there was no time 
to hide the tell-tale tears. He looked so eager, kind, and 
helpful, she could not be offended at his words ; and 


VONFIDENTIAL. 


273 


just then she needed a friend so much, it was hard 
to resist confiding in him. Yet, womanlike, she tried 
to hide her little worries, to make light of her girlish 
giief, and turn a brave face to the world. So she 
brushed the drops from her eyes, put on a smile, and 
answered stoutly, — 

“ It was very foolish of me to cry, but it is so dull 
and lonely here I think I was a little homesick.” 

“ Then perhaps you won’t mind if I walk on a bit 
with you and apologize for kicking your little dog?” 
said John, artfully availing himself of this excuse. 

“No, indeed. He is Aunt Maria’s dog; but how 
came you to do it ? ” asked the girl, plainly showing 
that a human companion was very welcome. 

“I was in a brown study, and did it by accident. 
He’s so fat it didn’t hurt him much,” answered the 
young man, assuming his gayest manner for her sake. 
Then he added, with an excuse which did not deceive 
her a bit, — 

“ The fact is, I’d ventured to call on you to see if 
I could get a sketch of the punch-bowl ; but you 
were engaged, the girl said, and I was rather disap- 
pointed.” 

“ What a fib ! I’m sorry I was out ; but the house was 
gloomy and Aunt rather cross, so I ran away under 
pretence of giving old Tip an airing.” 

“ Ah, you don’t know what you lost ! Mr. Parker 
went 111 as I came out, with such a nosegay! — for Aunt 
Maria, I suppose?” and John tried to look quite easy 
and gay as he spoke. 

Dolly’s face darkened ominqusly, and a worried look 
came into her eyes as she glanced behind her, then 
18 


274 


INDEPENDENCE. 


quickened hei steps, saying, with a little groan that 
was both comic and pathetic, — 

“ It does seem as if it was my doom to be tormented 
by old gentlemen ! I wish you’d get rid of this one as 
you did of the other.” 

“ Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” answered 
John, with such heartiness that a sudden color dried 
Dolly’s wet cheeks, as she remembered that he had got 
rid ol tormentor number one by taking his place. 

Cheered by the knowledge that a champion was 
ready to defend her, she ventured to show him a safer 
way in which to serve her, saying very soberly, — 

“ I think I may be glad of the recommendation you 
once promised me. Should you mind giving it ? ” 

“Are you tired of ‘playing lady’ so soon?” he 
asked anxiously. 

“ So tired that I felt to-day as if I’d like to run away 
and take service with the first person who would en- 
gage me.” 

“Don’t!” exclaimed John, with such energy that 
the fat poodle barked shrilly and made a feeble charge 
at his boots, feeling that something was wrong some- 
where. “ Run away home, if you must run, but pray 
don’t get discouraged and do any thing rash,” he went 
on with great earnestness ; for he saw by her face that 
she was in some real trouble. 

“I haven’t even a home to run to; for Mrs. Hill 
agrees with Aunt that it’s time I ceased to be a burden. 
It’s very hard, when I only ask a safe corner in the 
world, and am willing to work for it,” cried the girl, 
with an irrepressible sob ; for the trials of many weeks 
had grown unbearable, and a kind word made the full 
heart overflow. 


CONFIDENTIAL, 


276 


Keither spoke for a minute, then John said with a 
respectful earnestness which touched her very much, — 

“ Miss Dolly, you once called me a friend, and I was 
very proud to be so honored. Forget that I am any 
thing else, and, if you have no one wiser and older to 
consult, trust me, and let me help you. I’ve knocked 
about the world enough to know how hard it is for a 
man to get an honest living, doubly hard for a woman, 
especially one as young and beautiful as you are. 
There are safe corners, I am sure ; but it takes time to 
find them, so pray be patient and do nothing without 
care.” 

“ I called you a friend in need, and so you are ; for, 
strange as it may seem, there is no one to whom I can 
go for disinterested advice. I know so little of the 
world that I’m afraid to trust my own judgment, yet 
I am driven to decide between dependence of a sort 
I despise, or to stand alone and take care of myselfi 
Will you advise me?” and she looked up with an 
appealing glance, which read such a reassuring answer 
in the honest eyes full of sincerest sympathy that she 
was comforted before he spoke. 

“ Indeed I will ! for what are we all here for, if not 
to help one another ? Do you know I think there is a 
sort of fate about these things, and it’s no use to strug- 
gle against it. We seem to be two ‘lone, lorn’ crea- 
tures thrown together in queer ways, so let’s agree to 
be old friends and stand by each other. Come, is it 
a bargain ? ” 

He seemed so firmly conAunced of the inevitability 
of this fate that the girl felt relieved from farther scru- 
ples, and agreed in all good faith. 


276 


INDEPENDENCE. 


“Now about the troubles?” began John, trying to 
look old, reliable, and wise ; for he guessed the one 
she was most reluctant to tell. 

“ I suppose marrying for an establishment or earning 
their bread is a question most poor girls have to settle 
sooner or later,” observed Dolly, in a general sort of 
way, as an opening; for, in spite of his praiseworthy 
efforts, her young counsellor did not succeed in looking 
like a sage. 

“If pretty, yes; if plain, no. We needn’t discuss 
the latter class, but go on to the question,” returned 
John, keeping to the subject in hand with masculine 
pertinacity. 

“I’d rather be an old man’s housekeeper than his 
wife ; but people won’t believe it, and laugh at me for 
being what they call so foolish,” said the girl, petulantly ; 
for she did not seem to be getting on well with her 
confidences. 

“ I thought from what I saw at the fair that Parker 
seemed ready to offer both situations for your accept- 
ance.” 

John could not helj) saying that, for a jealous pang 
assailed him at the mere idea. He feared that he had 
spoilt the r6le he was trying to play ; but it happened 
to be the best thing he could have done, for the intro- 
luction of that name made things much easier for 
Dolly, as she proved by kindling up as suddenly as 
if the word had been a match to fire a long train of 
grievances. 

“ He did ; and Aunt scolds me from morning till 
night, because I won’t accept the fine establishment he 
offers me. That’s what I was sent here for ! step* 


CONFIDENTIAL. 


277 


mother wants me out of the way, Aunt Maria hands 
mo over to Mr. Parker, and he takes me because 1 
know how to cook and nurse. I might as well be put 
up at auction and sold to the highest bidder!” she 
cried, with eyes flashing through indignant tears. 

“It’s abominable!” echoed John, with equal indig- 
nation, though the words “highest bidder "‘rung in his 
ears, as he thought of the fortune waiting for him, and 
the youth which would tell so strongly in the race 
against “old Parker,” as he irreverently called the 
little man ; for fifty seems a patriarchal age to four-and- 
twenty. 

“ I know that sort of thing is done every day, and 
thought quite right ; but I am so old-fashioned it seems 
terrible to marry merely for a home. Yet I’m very 
tired of being poor, and I should like a taste of ease 
and pleasure while I can enjoy them,” added Dolly, 
with a very natural longing for the bright and happy 
side of life. 

“ And I could give her all she wants,” thought John, 
with the temptation getting stronger every minute. 
But he only said a little bitterly, “You’d better give 
in, if you want ease and pleasure, for money can buy 
any thing.” 

“ No, it can’t buy love, and that is better than all 
the splendor in the world,” answered the girl, in a tone 
that thrilled her hearer to the heart. “ What I call 
love seems to have gone out of fashion ; and that is what 
troubles me ; because, if there isn't any such thing, I may 
as well take the next best, and try to be contented. 
No one seems to value love for itself alone, to feel the 
need of it as much as light and air, to miss it when it 


278 


INDEPENDENCE. 


goes, or try to earn and keep it as the most precious thing 
in the world. Money and position are every thing, and 
men work and women marry for these, as if they had 
no other hope or end ; and I’m frightened at the things 
I see and hear in what is called society.” 

“Poor child, I don’t wonder; but I assure you there 
is an ocean of love in the world, only it gets put out of 
sight in the rush, wasted on those who don’t deserve 
it, or dammed up by adverse circumstances. It exists 
though, the real genuine article, waiting for a market. 
JDo believe it, and wait for it, and I’m sure it will come 
in time.” 

John was so divided between a rash impulse to 
prove his point by a declaration then and there, and 
the conviction that it would be altogether premature, 
his metaphors got rather mixed, and he had to pull 
himself up abruptly. But Dolly thought it a beautiful 
speech, was glad to believe every word of it, and ac- 
cepted this piece of advice with admirable docility. 

“ I’ll wait, and meantime be looking about for the 
safe corner to run to when Aunt Maria gets tired of 
me, because I don’t mean to go home again to be a 
burden.” Then, as if anxious to slip away from a too 
interesting topic, she asked with a very winning ex- 
pression of interest and good-will, — 

“Now what can I do for you? I’m sure you have 
worries as well as I, and, though not very wise, perhaps 
I might advise in my turn.” 

“You are very good, but I couldn’t think of trou- 
bling you ; ” and the young man looked both pleased 
and flurried by the girl’s offer. 

“We agreed to help one another, you remember ; and 


CONFIDENTIAL. 


279 


1 must do my part, or the bargain won’t be a fair on<=» 
Tell me what the brown study was about, and I’ll for^ 
give the kick poor Tip got,” persisted Dolly ; for her 
feminine instinct told her that a heavy cloud of some 
sort had been lifted to let sunshine through for her. 

John did long to know her opinion on a certain 
matte” , but a man’s pride would not let him speak as 
freely as the girl had done, so he took refuge in a mild 
subterfuge, and got advice on false pretences. 

“ It was only a quandary I was in about a friend of 
mine. He wants my judgment in a case something 
like yours, and perhaps you conld help me with an 
opinion ; for women are very wise in such matters 
sometimes.” 

‘‘ Please tell me, if you may. I should so love to 
pay my debts by being of some use ; ” and Dolly was 
all attention, as she pushed back her vail as if to get a 
clear and impartial view of the case about to be sub- 
mitted. 

Fixing his eyes on the sparrows who were disport- 
ing themselves among the budding elm-boughs, John 
plunged abruptly into his story, never once looking at 
his hearer and speaking so rapidly that he was rathei 
red and breathless when he got through. 

“You see. Jack was plodding along after a fashion 
all by himselfj his people being dead, when an old 
friend of his father’s took it into his head to say, ‘ Come 
and be a son to me, and I’ll leave you a handsome 
fortune when I die.’ A capital thing it seemed, and 
Jack accepted, of course. But he soon found that he 
had given up his liberty, and was a slave to a very 
tyrannical master, who claimed him soul and body, 


280 


INDEPENDENCE. 


heart and mind. That didn’t suit Jack, and he would 
have broken away ; but, as you say, he was ‘ tired of 
being poor, and wanted a little ease and pleasure in his 
life.’ The old man was failing, and the money would 
soon be his, so he held on, till he suddenly discovered 
that this fortune for which he was waiting was not 
honest money, but, like many another great fortune, 
had been ground out of the poor, swindled out of honest 
men, or stolen from trusting friends, and hoarded up 
for a long lifetime, to be left to Jack with the curse of 
dishonesty upon it. Would you advise him to take 
it?” 

“No,” answered the girl, without a moment’s hesi- 
tation. 

“Well, he didn’t, but turned his back on the ill- 
gotten money, and went to work again with clean 
but empty hands,” added John, still looking away, 
though his face wore a curiously excited expression 
under its enforced composure. 

“I’m glad, very glad he did! Wasn’t it noble of 
him?” asked Dolly, full of admiring interest in this 
unknown Jack. 

“ It was very hard ; for you see he loved somebody, 
and stood a poor chance of winning her without a 
penny in his pocket.” 

“ All the nobler in him then ; and, if she was worth 
winning, she’d love him the more for the sacrifice,” said 
Dolly, warmly ; for the romance of the story took her 
fancy, though it was poorly told. 

“Think so? I’ll mention that to Jack: it will cheer 
him up immensely, for he’s afraid to try his fate with 
nothing to offer but his earnings.” 


CONFIDENTIAL. 


281 


^ What’s his business ? ” asked L>olly suddenly. 

“ Connected with newspapers, — fair salary, good 
prospects, — not ashamed to work,” answered John, 
staring hard at the sparrows, and wiping his forehead, 
as if he found the bleak day getting too warm for him 

“ Is the girl pretty ? ” 

“ The most captivating little creature I ever beheld t ” 
cried John, rapturously. 

“ Oh, indeed,” and Dolly glanced at him sharply, while 
a shadow passed over her face, as she asked with re- 
doubled interest, “ Is she rich ? ” 

“ Has nothing but her sweet face and good name I 
believe.” 

“ Isn’t that enough? ” 

“ Indeed it is ! but Jack wants to make life beautiful 
and easy for her, and he can by saying a word. He is 
awfully tempted to say it ; for the old man is dying, has 
sent for him to come back, and there is yet time to 
secure a part of the fortune. He won’t take it all, but 
has a fancy that, if he leaves half to charity, it would be 
a sort of purification to the other half ; and he might 
enjoy it with his love. Don’t you think so ? ” 

“ No, it would spoil the whole thing. Why cannot 
they be contented to begin with nothing but love, and 
work up together, earning every clean and honest penny 
they spend. It would be a comfort to see such a pair 
in this mercenary world, and I do hope they will do it,” 
said the girl, heartily, though a slightly pensive tone 
had come into her voice, and she stifled a small sigh, as 
she put down her vail as if there was nothing worth 
seeing in the landscape. 

“I think they will try it!” answered John, with 


282 


INDEPENDENCE. 


decision, as he smiled sympathetically at a pair of 
sparrows chirping together at the door of one of the 
desirable family mansions provided for their use. 

Here Tip ended the dangerous dialogue by sitting 
down before Dolly with a howl of despair, which recalled 
her to her duty. 

“ The poor old thing is tired, and must go in. Good- 
morning, and many thanks,” she said, turning toward 
the steps, which they would have passed unseen but for 
the prudent poodle’s hint. 

“ Good-by, and a thousand pardons for boring you 
with my affairs,” began John, with a penitent, yet very 
grateful glance. 

“ By the way, I’ve been so interested in Jack’s affairs 
that I’ve forgotten exactly what your advice was to me,” 
she added, pausing on the upper step for a last word. 

With his hatpin his hand and his heart in his eyes, 
J ohn looked up and answered in a tone that made few 
words necessary, — 

‘‘ Don’t sell yourself for a home.” 

And Dolly answered back with a sweet, shrewd smile 
that made him flush guiltily, — 

“ Don’t smother your conscience with a fortune.” 


APRIL FOOLS. 


283 


CHAPTER IV. 

APRIL FOOLS. 

Tip’s constitutionals were taken with praiseworthy 
regularity about that time, and the poor asthmatic ani- 
mal was nearly walked off his legs by the vigor with 
which his little mistress paraded the park at unfashion- 
able hours. A robust young man, who did not look 
as if he needed early walks, was continually meeting 
Dolly by accident as it were, till on the fourth re')v- 
centre they both burst out laughing, gave up all fur- 
ther subterfuge, and felt that it was vain to struggle 
against fate. The next time they met, both looked 
very sober; and John said, watching her face as he 
spoke, — 

“ It is all over with me, Miss Dolly. The old man is 
dead, and my chance is lost for ever.” 

“You look so solemn. I’m afraid he left you some- 
tliing, after all.” 

“Not a penny. All went to various charities, and I 
have nothing but my salary and these two hands.” 

“ I’m glad of that ! I’d like to shake those honest 
hands, and wish them all success. May I ? ” she said, 
putting out her own with such cordial approval in 
voice and eyes that John lost his head, and, holding 
both the small hands fast in his, answered all in one 
fervently incoherent burst, — 

“May you? Let me keep them, and then I shall 
succeed! Dearest Dolly, you said you didn’t want 


284 


INDEPENDENCE. 


any thing but love ; and here’s a whole heart full, ach 
ing to be poured out. You said you’d like to see Jack 
and his wife working their way up together, contented 
to be poor. Here’s Jack and the wife he wants, if she 
cares enough for him to try that beautiful experiment. 
You said you hadn’t any home to run to when those 
cruel women called you a burden. Run to me, my 
darling, and be the pride and joy and comfort of my 
life!” 

No one saw what Dolly did but Tip, who sat lolling 
out his tongue in an imbecile manner; and no one 
heard what she said but some bright-faced crocuses 
blooming early in that lonely corner of the park. But 
from what took place afterward, it was evident that 
her reply had not been entirely unpropitious ; for her 
hand lay on John’s arm, her face was in an April state 
between smiles and tears, and to her eyes midsummer 
warmth and radiance seemed to have fallen suddenly 
upon the earth. It is hardly necessary to mention 
that the other party in this little transaction looked 
as if he owned the entire world, was yearning to em- 
brace all mankind, and had nothing more to ask of 
Heaven in the way of happiness, 

“ Y ou don’t regret saying yes, like an angel,” asked 
this unreasonable lover, five minutes after he had sur- 
prised her into uttering that momentous monosyllable. 

“Not yet.” 

“You know t^^t it is very selfish of me to ask you, 
when I’ve nothing to give ; and very unwise in you to 
take me, because you have much to lose.” 

“ Why, what ? ” 

“ The devoted Parker and his plump pocket-book.” 


APRIL FOOLb, 


286 


It was good to hear Dolly laugh at that, and to see 
John glance defiantly at an elderly gentleman in tho 
distance, as if all that harmless portion of the race ought 
to be exterminated, to leave room for happy young fel- 
lows like himself. 

“ lie will believe now that, when I say ‘ No,’ I mean 
it,” answered Dolly, with an assumption of dignity, 
which changed with comic suddenness to one of dis- 
may, as she added, “Oh, my heart, what will Aunt 
Maria say ! ” 

“Don’t tell her just yet, or she will shut you up, 
whisk you away, or do some awful thing to part us. 
Keep this delicious secret for a little while, and we can 
enjoy many happy minutes in peace.” 

“Yes, John,” with a docility that was altogether 
captivating to the new commander-in-chief. 

“ I must look about me, and be getting ready to take 
you into my home as well as my heart, when the stoiyn 
breaks. There is sure to be one, I fancy ; and, for my 
part, I rather relish the idea. The air will be clearer 
and things more settled after it.” 

“ I don’t know what they will say and do to me, but 
I shall not mind, now I have you to take care of me 
and Dolly’s other hand went to join the one on John’s 
arm, with a confiding gesture which glorified the old 
coat-sleeve, in his eyes, more than any badge it could 
have w^orn.* 

“ I suppose we must live somewhere, and eat occa- 
sionally, since we are mortal. Love certainly is the 
best capital to start on, but a trifle of cash is necessary 
likewise; so we must take a little thought for the 
morrow. Wish the city would provide us with a 


286 


INDEPENDENCE. 


house rent free, and board thrown in, as it does our 
feathery confidants here,” observed the husband elect, 
eying the sparrows with a vague sense of domestic 
cares already stealing over his masculine mind. 

“Don’t think of all those worries yet. Just love and 
be happy for a time, and things will settle themselves 
somehow,” cried Dolly, whose womanly nature would 
not be so soon defrauded of the sweet romance which 
comes but once in a lifetime. 

“Very well. We’ll give a month to clear bliss, and 
then talk about the honeymoon.” 

But, with the charming inconsistency of her sex, no 
sooner had she forbidden a subject than she felt an in- 
tense desire to talk about it ; and after a moment’s pause, 
during which her lover had been looking down at her 
thoughtful face in silent rapture, Dolly emerged from a 
brief reverie, clapping her hands and exclaiming, — 

“John, I’ve got the most delicious idea that ever 
was. Now don’t laugh and say, ‘ It isn’t practical,’ for 
I know it is ; and it would be so new and appropriate 
and economical, and altogether nice, that I hope you’ll 
approve. We shall w’ant a home by and by, shall we 
not?” 

“I want it now, if you’ve no objection.” 

“Be serious. Well, a room or two must content us 
at first, and we want them to be decent, not to say 
pretty and comfortable, don’t we ? ” 

“ They can’t help being all three, if you are there, 
my Dolly.” 

“No, John, not in public! Now answer me this, 
won’t you have to save up a long time, to get enough 
to buy furniture and things, no matter how simple?” 


APRIL FOOLS. 


287 


“ I’m afi’aid I should ; for at present ray housekeep- 
ing stock is about as large and varied as that of 
Tommy Traddles. His consisted of a bird-cage and 
a toasting-fork, I believe; mine, of an easel and a 
boot-jack. Wouldn’t they do to begin with ? ” 

“Please don’t joke, but listen; for this is the new 
idea. Take my dear old relics and fhrnish our nest 
with them ! What could be more economical, pictu- 
resque, and appropriate for this centennial year ? ” 

Dolly stopped short to see how this amazing proposal 
struck her lord and master. It seemed to take him ofl 
his legs ; for he sat suddenly down upon a seat that 
fortunately was behind him, and looked up at the 
beaming little woman with an expression of admiration 
and contentment, which answered her question so 
emphatically that she nestled down beside him with 
all her doubts laid at rest. 

“I thought you’d like it! How let’s plan it all out, 
and see what we’ve got. Every thing is as old as the 
hills, you know ; but still so good and strong we can 
get years of wear out of it. We don’t have such well- 
made furniture nowadays,” she went on, happily 
blind to the deficiencies of the time-worn chairs, 
clumsy tables, and cracked china, which were all her 
store. 

“My blessing on every stick, of it! I wasn’t think- 
ing about the furniture, though. I was rejoicing over 
the fact that, if I needn’t save up for that sort of 
thing, we could be married all the sooner. That’s the 
beauty of the idea, don’t you see?” and John regarded 
the originator thereof with unmitigated satisfaction. 

“ So we can ; but <^0 think about the furniture, 


288 


INDEPENDENCE, 


because you ought to be interested in helping me make 
an artistic home,” said Dolly, knowing that the word 
“ artistic ” would arrest his attention, and keep him to 
the subject in hand ; for as yet the other idea was too 
new to bear much discussion. 

“I will. In fact, I see it now, all complete. Two or 
three rooms in an old house, if possible, — they are always 
the cheapest, my love ; so don’t look as if you saw 
cobwebs and blue mould, and felt black beetles run- 
ning over your feet. In one room we’ll have that 
spider-legged table on which you cleaned the snuffer 
tray, and the claw-footed chairs : there were three, I 
think, — one for each of us, and the third for a friend. 
Then on the dresser we’ll put all the porringers out of 
which we are to eat mush and milk, and the pewter 
platters for an occasional ‘biled dish,’ — that’s the 
proper name for the mess, isn’t it ? Likewise the dear 
fat tea-pots, the red china cups, all cracked, the green- 
handled knives and forks, the wooden spoons, funny 
pepper-pots, and all the rest of the droll rattletraps.” 

“Don’t forget the tankard,” cried Dolly, as John 
paused for breath in the middle of his rhapsody. 

“ That will be in our parlor, set forth in state on the 
little stand I used to have ray lunch at during the fair. 
I’m afraid I scratched your initials all over it, that 
being a trick of mine about that time.” 

“I thought you did it! Never mind, but go on, 
please.” 

“We shall put flowers in the immortal mug, and I shall 
paint them, earn sums, and grow famous, such will be 
the inspiration of my surroundings. For, while I sit m 
the General’s chair at my delightful work, you in the 


APRIL FOOLS, 


289 


pretty chintz gown and the fly-away cap, — promise 
me to wear it, or I won’t go on ? ” 

“ I’ll wear any thing you like, in the house, and can 
have a water-proof and a linen duster for the street. 
Artists’ wives usually do have to make guys of them- 
selves, I believe.” 

“Thank you, dear. Well, you will always be doing 
one of three things, making sweethearts, spinning, or 
looking over my shoulder. I prefer the latter occupation 
on the whole, and when I’m at home that will be your 
mission. During my absence, you can attend to the 
housework you love so well, and do so prettily. Never 
did I see such brilliant candlesticks in my life ; and as 
for the copper tea-kettle, it was like a mirror. I saw 
you steal peeps at it more than once, Little Vanity, 
that day as I sat stealing a sketch of you.” 

“Then you think it can be done, John?” ignoring 
the accusation. 

“ It not only can, but it shall be done, and I shouldn’t 
wonder if we set the fashion of furnishing bridal bowers 
with relics of all sorts, throwing in a glue-pot gratis, to 
mend up the old things when they tumble to pieces. 
I’m great at that, and can get my living as a cabinet- 
maker when art fails.” 

“ I do believe you can do every thing, John !” 

“No, I couldn’t cure pneumonia, if you should get it 
by sitting in this chilly wind. Now I’ve got you, I 
intend to take great care of you, my little treasure.” 

It was so sweet to Dolly to be cared for, and so 
delightful to John to do it, that they forgot all about 
poor Tip till he turnbled into the pond, and was with 
difficulty fished out by his ears and tail, being too lat 
19 


290 


INDEPENDENCE. 


to do any thing but float. This catastrophe shortened 
an interview which might otherwise have been pro- 
longed till nightfall, for 

Lightly falls the foot of time 
That only treads on flowers.” 

“ Why, John, do you know that this is the first of 
April ? ” asked Dolly, as they went homeward, with 
Tip forlornly dripping in the rear. “ A very fitting 
day for such an imprudent couple as we are to begin 
their journey,” she added, enjoying the idea immensely. 

“ So it is ! Never mind ! weTl prove that we are no 
fools, though a mercenary world may call us so,” re- 
turned John, as blithe as she. 

Alas, poor things I they thought their troubles were 
all over, now they had found each other ; whereas a 
cruel fate was laughing at them round the corner. 


CHAPTER V. 

TEE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 

Unfortunately for these deluded young persons^ 
their month of bliss turned out to be the most tem- 
pestuous one they had ever passed ; for, before the first 
week was over, some malignant imp inspired Aunt 
Maria to spy, from a certain end window which com- 
manded a corner of the park, the lingering adieux of 
the lovers, and then it was all up with them. 


DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE, 291 


A single stormy debate, during which John manfully 
claimed his Dolly, she stoutly defended her right to 
love whom she chose, and Aunt Maria thundered 
and lightened unavailingly, resulted in the banishment 
of the claimant, the strict seclusion of the damsel, and 
the redoubled devotion of the decorous but determined 
Parker, who, cheered on by his ally, still besieged the 
rebellious heart, undaunted by the reinforcements lately 
received. 

The prospect was certainly not a hopeful one ; but 
the young people never lost courage, rather enjoyed 
it on the whole, and revolved endless schemes in their 
busy brains, wdiich they confided to one another by 
means of notes slipped under Tip’s collar when he took 
his solitary airings on the steps. For a time persecution 
lent its zest to their love ; but presently separation grew 
unbearable, and they were ready for revolt. 

“ I must see you,” wrote John, in note number 37. 

“ You shall” answered Dolly, and bade him meet 
her at one of the many Centennial Balls which afflicted 
the world in 1875-76. 

To hear was to obey ; and though said ball was to be 
eminently select, thanks to a skilful use of his middle 
name, John was able to keep the appointed tryst, well 
knowing that there is no solitude like that to be found 
in a crowd. Costumes were in order ; and there was a 
general resurrection of ancient finery, which made the 
handsome hall look as if time had rolled back a hundred 
years. Every one who had a hair powdered it, and 
those who had not made up the deficiency by imposing 
wigs. Spindle-legged gentlemen affected top-boots 
and spurs ; those blessed with a manly development 


292 


INDEPENDENCE 


of calf pranced in silk stockings and buckled shoes. 
British and Continental uniforms amicably marched 
shoulder to shoulder; dimity and brocade mingled 
prettily together; and patriotic ardor animated the 
hearts under the lace stomachers and embroidered 
waistcoats as warmly as of old, for the spirit of ’76 
was all alive again. 

Aunt Maria looked like a parrot of the most brilliant 
plumage ; for the good lady burned to distinguish her- 
self, and had vainly tried to wear a suit of Madam 
Hancock’s belonging to Dolly. Fortunately, Madam 
was a small woman, and Aunt Maria quite the reverse ; 
so she was forced to give it up, and content herself 
with being one of many Martha Washingtons who 
filled the dowagers’ corner. 

So Dolly bloomed into the sweetest little old-time 
lady ever seen, and was in truth by nature as by name 
a Dorothy Quincy. Not as the matron, but as the 
maid, with all her curly locks turned over a roller 
before they fell on her white neck, where shone the 
jewelled hearts she prized so much. Lilies of the val- 
ley embroidered her white gown, and nestled among the 
lace that rose and fell upon her bosom. From under 
her quilted satin petticoat “ her little feet stole in and 
out,” wearing Madam’s wedding-shoes, so high in the 
heels and so pointed at the toes that Dolly suffered 
martyrdom with a smiling face, and danced at the risk 
of her life. Long gloves, with Lafayette’s likeness 
stamped on the back, kept splitting at the time-worn 
seams, so plump were the arms inside. A quaint scent- 
bottle hung at her waist ; and she hid her blushes behind 
a great fan, whose dim mirror had reflected faces history 
has made immortal. 


DECLABATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 293 


“You are simply perfect, Miss Plill, and nothing 
could be added,” whispered the still hopeful Parker, 
who was on duty and much elated by the fact ; for the 
girl was unusually friendly that evening for reasons of 
her own. 

“ Except the Governor,” she answered, peeping over 
her fan with eyes full of anxiety as well as merriment ; 
for John had not yet appeared, and the little man 
beside her was very funny in a voluminous white neck- 
cloth, furred coat-collar, and square-toed shoes, care- 
fully kept in the “ first position.” He had longed to 
personate the character she suggested. Stature forbade, 
however; and he had contented himself with person- 
ating Benjamin Franklin, flattering himself that his 
placid countenance and neat legs would be remarkably 
eflective, also the fact that he had been connected 
with the printing interest in early life. 

“ If you had only told me, I would have attempted 
it for your sake : you have but to express a wish, and 
I am charmed to gratify it,” murmured the enamoured 
Benjamin, with a tenderly reproachful sigh, which 
stirred his rampant shirt-frill like a passing breeze. 

At that moment, as if a wish had brought him, 
a veritable John Hancock stood before them, looking 
comelier than ever, in a velvet suit, as he laid his 
cocked hat upon his heart and asked, with a bow so 
deep that it afforded a fine view of the garnet buckle 
in his stock, — 

“ May I have the honor, Madam ? ” 

Glad to hide a traitorously happy face, Dolly made 
him a splendid curtsey, and took his arm with a 
hasty — 


294 


INDEPENDENCE. 


“ Excuse me, Mr. Parker. Please tell Aunt Fm 
going to dance.” 

“But — but — but — my dear Miss, I promised not 
to lose sight of you,” stammered the defrauded Frank- 
lin, turning red with helpless rage, as the full audacity 
of the lovers burst upon him. 

“Well, you needn’t. Wait foY- me here till my dance 
is over, then Aunt won’t know any thing about it,** 
laughed wilful Dolly over her shoulder, as she was swept 
away into the many-colored whirlpool that circled 
round the hall to the entrancing music of a waltz. 

While it lasted, words were needless ; for eyes did the 
talking, smiles proud or tender telegraphed volumes of 
poetry, the big hand held the little one so close that 
it burst quite out of the old glove rosy with the press- 
ure, and the tall head was often so near the short one 
that the light locks powdered the dark ones. 

“ A heavenly waltz ! ” panted Dolly, when it ended, 
feeling that she could go on for ever, blind to the droll 
despair of poor Parker, as, heroically faithful to his 
trust, he struggled frantically to keep the happy pair 
in sight. 

“Now we’ll have a still more heavenly promenade 
in the corridor. Ben is busy apologizing to half a dozen 
ladies whose trains he has walked up in his mad career 
after us, so we are safe for a time,” answered John, 
ready to brave the wrath of many Aunt Marias ; for 
the revolutionary spirit was high within him, and he 
had quite made up his mind that resistance to tyi’ants 
xcas obedience to the little god he served just then. 

“ Oh, John, how glad I am to see you after all this 
worry, and how nice it was of you to come in such 


DECLABATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 5^95 


grand style to-night ! I was so afraid you couldn’t 
manage it,” said Dolly, hanging on his arm and survey- 
ing her gallant Governor with pardonable pride. 

“My blessed girl, there was nothing I couldn’t man- 
age with the prospect of meeting you before me. 
Hasn’t it been hard times for both of us ? You’ve had 
the hardest, I’m afraid, shut up with the dragon and 
no refuge from daily nagging and Parker’s persecution. 
If you hadn’t the bravest little heart in the world, you’d 
have given up by this;” and, taking advantage of a 
shadowy corner, John embraced his idol, under pretence 
of drawing her cloak about her. 

“ I’ll never give up the ship ! ” cried the girl, quoting 
Lawrence of the “ Chesapeake,” with a flash of the eye 
good to see. 

“ Stand to your guns, and we’ll yet say, ‘ We’ve piet 
the enemy, and they are ours,’ ” answered John, in the 
words of brave Perry, and with a ring to his voice 
which caused a passing waiter to pause, fancying he 
was called. 

Beckoning to him, John gave Dolly a glass of lemon- 
ade, and, taking one himself, said with a look that 
made the toast a very eloquent one to both of them, — 

“The love of liberty — and — the liberty of love.” 

They drank it silently, then paced on again, so intent 
upon their own emotions that neither saw a flushed and 
agitated countenance regard them from a doorway, and 
then vanish, smiling darkly. 

“ Governor ! ” 

“ Dearest Madam ! ” 

“ Things have come to a crisis, and I’ve taken a reso- 
kition,” began Dolly, remembering that time was short. 


296 


INDEPENDENCE, 


“ So have I.” 

This is mine, — I’m going to Philadelphia.* 

“No!” 

“Yes.” 

“ How ? when ? why ? ” 

“ Be calm and listen. Aunt has given me just three 
days to choose between accepting P. and being sent 
home in disgrace. I don’t intend to do either, but 
take matters into my own hands, and cease to be a 
burden.” 

“Hear! hear! but how?” 

“ At the fair the kitchen was a success, and there is 
to be a grand one at the Exposition. Girls are wanted 
to wait there as here ; they are taken care of, and all 
expenses paid while they serve. I know some nice 
people who are going for fun, and I’m to join them for 
a month at least. That gives me a start, and after- 
ward I certainly c^n find something to do in the city 
of Brotherly Love.” 

“ The knowledge that Tm to be there on duty had 
nothing to do with this fine plan of yours, hey, my 
Dolly?” and John beamed at her with such a raptur. 
ous expression she had to turn him round, lest au 
advancing couple should fancy he had been imbibing 
something stronger than lemonade and love. 

“Why, of course it had,” she answered with ador- 
able candor. “ Don’t you see how lovely it will be to 
meet every day and talk over our prospects in peace, 
while we are working away together till we have 
earned enough to try the experiment we planned in 
the park?” 

Stopping short, John grasped the hand that lay on 


DECLABATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 297 


his arm, looking as if suddenly inspired, and exclaimed 
in a solemn yet excited tone, — 

“ Tve got a plan, a superb plan, only it may startle 
you a bit at first. Why not marry and go together ? ” 

Before Dolly could find breath to answer this mo* 
mentous question, a bomb-shell, in the shape of Aunt 
Maria, exploded before them, and put an end to the 
privy conspiracy and rebellion. 

“You will not go anywhere together, for my niece 
is in the care of this gentleman. I did think we should 
be free fi'om annoyance here, but I see I was mistaken. 
Mr. Parker, will you oblige me by taking Dolly home 
at once?” 

Every feather in the old lady’s gray wig trembled 
with ire, as she plucked the girl from one lover and 
gave her to the charge of the other, in whom the con- 
flicting emotions of triumph and trepidation were so 
visible that the contrast between his countenance and 
costume was more comical than ever. 

“But, Aunt, it isn’t time to go yet,” protested Dolly, 
finding submission very hard after her taste of freedom. 

“ It is quite time for persons who don’t know how to 
behave with propriety in public. Not a word 1 Take 
my wrap, and go at once. Mr. Parker, please leave 
her in Mrs. Cobb’s care, and return to enjoy yourself. 
There is no reason why your evening should be 
spoilt ; ” and Aunt Maria bundled poor Dolly into an 
ugly shawl, which made her look like a lovely tea-rose 
done up in brown paper. 

This sudden fall from the height of happiness to the 
depths of helpless indignation left John speechless for 
an instant, during which he with difficulty resisted a 


298 


INDEPENDENCE. 


strong desire to shake Aunt Maria, and spit Benjamin 
Franklin on the sword that hung at his side. The 
sight of his Dolly reft from him, and ruthlessly led 
away from the gayety she loved, reminded him that 
discretion was the better part of valor, and for her 
sake he tried to soften the dragon by taking all the 
blame upon himself, and promising to go away at once. 
But, while he was expostulating, the wary Parker 
carried off the prize ; and, when John turned to say 
good-night, she had vanished, and Aunt Maria stalked 
away, with a grim laugh at his defeat. 

That laugh made him desperate ; and, rushing down- 
stairs, he was about to walk away in the rain, regard- 
less of the damage to his costly suit, when the sound 
of a voice checked his reckless flight, and, looking back, 
he saw Dolly pausing on the stairs to say, with a 
glance from the ancestral shoes to the wet pavement 
outside, “ I don’t mind wetting my feet, but I cannot 
spoil these precious slippers. Please get my overshoes 
from the dressing-room : I’ll wait for you here.” 

“ Certainly, certainly ; and my coat also : we must 
be prudent after such heat and excitement,” replied 
Mr. Parker, glad to guard himself against the rheuma- 
tism twinges which already began to afflict his lightly 
clad extremities. 

As he hurried back, a voice whispered, “Dolly!” 
and, regardless of the perilously high heels, she ran 
down to join a black velvet gentleman below, who 
said in her ear, as he led her toward the door, — 

“ I must have a word more. Let me take you home ; 
any carriage will do, and it’s our last chance.” 

“yes, John, yes; but oh, mj shoes!” and for one 


DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 209 

instant Dolly lingered, as reverence for her relics con- 
tended with love for her Governor. 

But he was equal to the occasion, and, having no 
cloak to lay under his queen’s feet, just took her in his 
arms, and before she knew it both were in the coach, 
an order given, and they were off. 

“Oh, John, how could you ?” was all she said, cast- 
ing away the big shawl, to put both hands on the 
powdery shoulders before her ; for her escort was on 
his knees, quite in the style of the days when Sir 
Charles Willoughby carried Evelina off in his chariot. 

How he did. it John never knew; but there he 
was, as unconscious of his long limbs as if he had been 
a cherub, so intent was he on improving this precious 
moment. 

“ I’d like to do a great deal more than that, but not 
to-night, though I’m sorely tempted to run away with 
you, Dolly,” he answered, feeling as if it would be 
impossible to relinquish the little bundle of silk and 
swan’s down his arm enclosed. 

“Oh, John, please don’t! How could I in this dress, 
and no place to go to, or any thing? ” 

“ Don’t be frightened, dear : I won’t be rash. But, 
seriously, it must come to that, and the sooner the 
better ; so make up your mind to it, and I’ll manage all 
the rest. This is my plan, and yours will make it all 
the easier. We will go to Philadelphia; but we’ll be 
married first, and that shall be our wedding journey.” 

“ But I’m not ready ; we haven’t any money ; and 
only three days I I couldn’t, John, I couldn’t ! ” and 
Dolly hid her face, glad, yet half-frightened, at tliis 
prospect of such a release from all her woes. 


800 


INDEPENDENCE, 


“I knew it would startle you at first; but getting 
married is the easiest thing in life when you set about 
it. You don’t want any wedding finery, I’ve got 
money enough, and can borrow more if I need it ; and 
three days is plenty of time to pack your trunk, have 
a farewell fight with Aunt Maria, and run away to be 
the happiest little wife that ever was. Say yes, dar- 
ling ; trust every thing to me, and, please God, you 
never shall regret it.” 

Dolly had doubted the existence of genuine love 
nowadays, and John had assured her that there were 
oceans of it. There certainly seemed to be that night ; 
and it was impossible to doubt the truth of his asser- 
tion while listening to the tender prayers and plans 
and protestations he poured into her ear, as they rolled 
on, regardless of the avenging furies behind, and the 
untried fate before them. Storms raged without, but 
peace reigned within ; for Dolly showed signs of yield- 
ing, though she had not consented when the run-away 
ride ended. 

As John set her down in the hall, he added as a last 
appeal, — 

“ Remember, there were ‘ Daughters of Liberty,’ as 
well as sons, in the old times you love so well. Be 
one, and prove yourself worthy of your name, as you 
bid me be of mine. Come, sweetheart, resist tyranny, 
face poverty, love liberty, and declare your independ- 
ence as bravely as they did.” 

“I will!” and Dolly signed the declaration her 
Hancock headed, by giving him her hand and sealing 
the oath with a kiss. 

“ One word more,” he said hurriedly, as the clatter 


PEACE IS DECLARED. 


301 


of all approaching carriage sounded through the street : 
“ I may not be able to see you again, but we can each 
be getting ready, and meet on Monday morning, when 
you leave for ‘Aome’ in good truth. Put a lamp in 
the end window the last thing Sunday night as the 
bells ring nine, then I shall be sure that all is right 
fcud have no delay in the morning.” 

“Yes, John.” 

“ Good-night, and God bless you ! ” 

There was no time for more ; and as distracted 
Parker burst out of one carriage, and Aunt Maria 
“came tumbling after,” happy John Harris stepped 
into the other, udth a wave of the cocked hat, and 
drove away in triumph. 


CHAPTER VL 
PEACE IS DECLARED. 

The age of miracles is not over yet, and our young 
people wrought several during those three days ; for in 
love’s vocabulary there is no such word as fail. 

Dolly “stood to her guns” womanfully, and not 
only chose to go “ home,” but prepared for her banish- 
ment with an outward meekness and an inward joy 
which made each hour memorable. Aunt Maria had 
her suspicions and kept a vigilant watch, she and her 
maid Cobb mounting guard by turns. Parker, finding 
that “no surrender” was the countersign, raised the 
siege and retreated in good order, though a trifle de- 


802 


INDEPENDENCE. 


moralized in dignity when he looked back during the 
evacuation and saw Tip bolt upright in the end window, 
with the rebel flag proudly displayed. 

John meanwhile was circulating briskly through 
the city, and showing such ardent interest in the ap- 
proaching Exposition that his mates christened him 
“Centennial Harris;” while the higher powers felt 
that they had done a good thing in giving him the job, 
and increased his salary to make sure of so excellent a 
servant. Other arrangements of a private but infinitely 
more interesting nature were successfully made ; and he 
went about smiling to himself, as if the little parco? 
done up in silver paper, which he was constantly feeling 
for in his vest pocket, had been a talisman conferring 
all good gifts upon its happy owner. 

When the third night came, he was at his post long 
before the time, so great was his impatience ; for the 
four-footed traitor had been discovered and ordered 
into close confinement, where he sufiered, not the fate 
of Andre, but the pangs of indigestion for lack of ex- 
ercise after the feast of tidbits surreptitiously adminis- 
tered by one who never forgot all she owed to her “ fat 
friend.” 

It seemed as if nine o’clock would never come; 
and, if a policeman ever was where he should be, the 
guardian of that beat would have considered John a 
suspicious character as he paced to and fro in the April 
starlight. At last the bells began to chime, promptly 
the light appeared, and, remembering how the bell of 
the old State House rang out the glad tidings a hundred 
years ago, John waved his cherished parcel, joyfully 
exclaiming, “Independence is declared! ring! ring! 


PEACE IS DECLARED. 


303 


ring!” then raced across the park like another Paul 
Revere when the signal light shone in the steeple of 
the old North Church. 

Next morning at an early hour a carriage drove to 
Aunt Maria’s door, and with a stern farewell from her 
nightcapped relative Dolly was sent forth to banish- 
ment, still guarded by the faithful Cobb. The mutinous 
damsel looked pale and anxious, but departed with a 
friendly adieu and waved her handkerchief to Tip, dis- 
consolate upon the door-mat. The instant they turned 
the corner, however, a singular transformation took place 
in both the occupants of that carriage ; for Dolly caught 
Cobb round the neck and kissed her, while smiles broke 
loose on either face, as she said gleefully, — 

“ You dear old thing, what should I have done with- 
out you ? Am I all right ? I do hope it’s becoming. 
I had to give up every thing else, so I was resolved not 
to be married without a new bonnet.” 

“ It’s as sweet as sweet can be, and not a bit the 
worse for being smuggled home in a market-basket,” 
returned the perjured Cobb, surveying with feminine 
pride and satisfaction the delicate little bonnet which 
emerged from the thick veil by which its glories had 
been prudently obscured. 

“ Here’s a glass to see it in. Such a nice carriage, 
with white horses, and a tidy driver ; so appropriate 
you know. It’s a happy accident, and I’m so pleased,” 
prattled the girl, looking about her with the delight 
of an escaped prisoner. 

“ Bless your heart. Miss, it’s all Mr. Harris’s doings : 
he’s been dodging round the corner ever since daylight ; 
and there he is now, I do declare. I may as well go 


804 


INDEPENDENCE. 


for a walk till your train is off, so good-by, and the 
best of lucks, my dear.” 

There was barely time for this brief but very hearty 
congratulation, when a remarkably well-dressed high- 
wayman stopped the carriage, without a sign of resist- 
ance from the grinning driver. Cobb got out, the 
ruffian, armed not with a pistol, but a great bouquet oi 
white roses, got in, and the coach went on its way 
through the quiet streets. 

“May day, and here are your flowers, my little 
queen.” 

“ Oh, John!” 

■ A short answer, but a very eloquent one, when ac- 
companied with full eyes, trembling lips, and a face as 
sweet and lovely as the roses. 

It was quite satisfactory to John ; and, having slightly 
damaged the bridal bonnet without reproof, he, man- 
like, mingled bliss and business, by saying, in a tone 
that made poetry of his somewhat confused remarks, — 

“ Heaven bless my wife! We ought to have had the 
Governor’s coach to-day. Isn’t Cobb a trump to get 
us off so nicely ? Never saw a woman yet who could 
resist the chance of her helping on a wedding. Remem- 
bered every thing I told her. That reminds me. 
Wasn’t it lucky that your relics were boxed up in 
dear Aunt Maria’s shed, so all Cobb had to do was to 
alter the directions and send them off to Philadelphia 
instead of home ? ” 

“ I’ve been in a tremble for three days, because it 
seemed as if it couldn’t be possible that so much hap- 
piness was coming to me. Are you quite sure you 
want me, John? ” asked Dolly, careless for once of her 


PEACE liS DECLARED. 


305 


^'lierished treasures ; for she had been busy with hopes 
ind fears, while he was attending to more material 
affairs. 

“ So sure, that I’ve got something here to hind you 
with. Do you mind trying it on to see if it fits, for 
I had to guess at the size,” answered John, produc 
ing his talisman with all a bridegrocm’s pride and 
eagerness. 

“ Please let me wear that as a guard, and use this 
one to be married with. I’ve a superstition about it, 
for it suits us and the year better than any other ; ” and 
Dolly laid the little ring of reddish gold beside the 
heavier one in John’s palm. 

“ So it does, and you shall have it as you like. Do 
you know, when you showed it to me three months 
ago, I had a fancy that it would be the proper thing 
for me to put it on your finger ; but I didn’t dream I 
ever should. Are you very certain that you don’t 
regret the advice you gave my friend Jack?” asked 
the young man, thinking with fond solicitude of the 
great experiment that lay before them ; for he knew by 
experience how hard this world’s ways sometimes are, 
and longed to smooth the rough places for the confiding 
little creature at his side. 

“ Do I look as if I did ? ” she answered simply, but 
with a face so full of a true woman’s instinctive faith 
in the power of love to lighten labor, sweeten poverty, 
and make a heaven of the plainest home, that it was 
impossible to doubt her courage or fear her disloyalty. 

Quite satisfied, John pocketed the rings and buttoned 
Dolly’s gloves, saying, while she buttoned his, both 
marvellously enjoying this first service for each other 
20 


806 


INDEPENDENCE, 


“ Almost there now, and in less than half an hour we 
shall be so safe that all the Aunt Marias in Christendom 
can’t part us any more. George has stood by me like 
a man and a brother, and promised that every thing 
should be all right. Th church will look a trifle 
empty, I dare say, with only five of us to fill it ; but I 
shall like it better than being made a spectacle of ; so 
will you, I fancy.” 

“ The church ? I thought runaways were married in 
an office, by a justice, and without much ceremony to 
make it solemn. I’m very glad it isn’t so, for I shall 
never have but one wedding, and I’d love to have it in 
a sacred place,” faltered Dolly, as a sudden sense of all 
it meant came over her, filling her girlish heart with 
tender awe. 

“ I knew that, dear, and so I did my best to make 
you feel no lack of love, as I could not give you any 
splendor. I wish I had a mother to be with you to-day ; 
but George has lent me his, so there will be a woman’s 
arms to cry in, if you want to drop a tear ; and fatherly 
old Dr. King will give you to the happiest man alive. 
Well, well, my Dolly, if you’d rather, cry here, and then 
let me dry your tears, as, please Heaven, I will do all 
your life.” 

“ So kind, John, so very kind ! I can’t thank you in 
words, but I’ll show by deeds how much I honor, trust, 
and love my husband;” and nobly Dolly kept her 
word. 

No one saw them as they went in, but the early 
sunshine made a golden path for them to tread, and 
the May wind touched them with its balmy kiss. No 
congratulatory clamor greeted them as they came out ; 


PEACE IS DECLARED. 


307 


but the friendly sparrows twittered a wedding march, 
and the jovial George sent them merrily away, by say- 
ing, as he gave John’s hand a parting grasp, — 

“ I was right, you see, and there is a Mrs. Harris ? ” 
If any one doubts it, let him look well about him, 
and he may discover the best thing America could 
send to her Exposition : an old-fashioned home, and in 
it an ambitious man who could not be bought, a beauti- 
ful woman who would not be sold; a young couple 
happy in their love and labor, consecrating this cen- 
tennial year, by practising the old-fashioned virtues, 
honesty and thrift, independence and content. 


University Press ; John Wilson & Son, Cambridge. 




'.1- f 1 -<' ' .1 ' 

' » I r 


ir’* 'xj V ' 


" • • 4 a 4 • 


•..r 


. \ '-V ‘ ' " 

' • ' r . /,.'r •,?..'\t. ' . ♦'*'•- 




.. .^■' .<' ^ 


' ^ ■ 




% f 


* V. 




✓ 

■* t 


-yH 

5 





I <- 


\ . 


i t 


k*, ' ' » 

’A-. ’ 

!'• ^Vs • a 
i T’ . " *^ ' I 

• • .■ " ' 


^r, 








K 

ft t 


I 


r • « 


•ft 


•■ 1 


i ■' •'•'«*'* 

'• - - ,, j..'^ 


. V M >/ 




' , C 




4 

• * * 






• i *♦> 


\ 


P, 


D 

W' 


:i* A\ 






'>n 




•• ^ I 

; ' 

, y 


t>' ,• 


'•ft r • 


. V 


•/ f ( . • f ^; ■*. •V*' ^• w ^ . 1 / i » * 

^.‘' v. •., : ; ^ w' - 


iv/ , .r ‘ 7, ,■ I ,. 

k: ■•.•f; ;■ (l.i ,*■? ;■ 
V J v' •■ ^ 


i * I 

1 ' .• •• i' » ' 




r 




t4 9 . 


. ^ , 


A 


r 


. . r • • * - I ^ 


A 


^ < 




^ f /. , , . .. . ■';' V ' - V.'.’ ■ u.-i. 

-,y,-'-f •« V‘- / • , v* • r *' ■ x\ ’‘S ' , .• . ., ■■ 

/S i I ^ ^ ‘ H i * . • « ' . • • *. 



,• » M O % • ’ I ^ ’ i 


/*•» ■‘- «nrv* - 


CJ ^ 


•tv' ^ ^ 

I 

I ^ 


. y . '^, 

^ .? • •/ .-, ^ 

' ** ' V • f 


m' 


' u 


t9 


^ i . V 


» V 

ft " 


.Vr\/ 


"-' •'. j- ' 


« ftr # 




* • I 




• 4 




V 


• \ 


.y ,7 ii.^ - ' ••'* ■ ■■- f’.' •■ -' -' * 

.i •y.*V • . V^- ■ ' 

^ * T *• •*■! > v» ,y ' *>. « , 

^ . . .-.VV_ » • . j 4 


^ 11 

; 1 

■■'A 

ft • 

• S 

y- 

y ^ ^ 

0 

'y..y 

<• 

■f'r 

• 

• • ^ • 9 


//■ 

•I r 


'ft \ 


i' 


A ^ • 



V f V 


V i , . 'i. > .- vV- i, . 

•■• \ *♦ V y, 'f ' - I ■’• ’•. 'f* V 


' . * /V 


, y ,, > t -^1 •-> • ^ • • 




> k . ; • " ' 

i • . ^ » 


i ^ ^ ^ 

I 


*» I J 


f 

^ . 

V 


» I 


• I ' 


. tV^; 

*. * f 

.- V 


' 

■ ' 1 . 


V . ^ '^ft ^ •.- 


f * . 


. V7 


■ , ^ . 


. ' ' . /r? 

' ’ f /m 


j »' fc-* H ' . •' 

A., ♦T. . .rV/.V.-’'*' 


.V , ift 
• 1^: 


’ • \ ‘ . y -*» . * 




r ^ 


^ /Vi'S ■>■'•• ' ' '% » /< ’ X: 

'T * * ;. t: :•’; ; ’ •./ 



iV ' g\ 

: < s-'.i. 






/.I 


* • • . * 

‘ '<■■ v' ‘ ■ 




■•' /4.- .. 


^ V 

f 


/ ' t 




1 r 




V ' '.'.V 



4 »: ^■’ K 

*. . 




‘ + 


% 

*# • • 




.. i • 

r< , -f 


* > . w 


i 


' .^ * , ‘H TV i? ■^♦r. y » . t * i •►. * ^ '• y 

■' i- : X ■ •' ■ ,' ■'^-^.■> ',:-:fh:'!': ' 

'"' .' ' S'.-* !■ I ':.*^’i -' '■. -' if- ' ?■'■<•, 


y' ; 

' - .• 

V 


N, .' 


. 


, X , 








i 


< 


J • 


-r • Kr 

I 


S/ 




M 


«V»s • •'. 




4* > 


. A 



THE LITTLE WOMEN SERIES 

BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT 

Miss Alcctt is really a benefactor of households. H. H. 



LITTLE WOMEN. 
LITTLE MEN. 

EIGHT COUSINS. 
UNDER THE LILACS. 


AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL. 
JO’S BOYS. 

ROSE IN BLOOM. 

JACK AND JILL. 


z6mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Each, $l.fO. Eight volumes, 
uniform, in box, $12,00. 


WORKS BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT 

Uniform with “ The Little Women Series ” 

LIFE, LETTERS, AND JOURNALS OF LOUISA M. ALCOTT. 
By Ednah D. Cheney. With Portraits. i6mo. Cloth, j^i.50. 

COMIC TRAGEDIES. Written by “Jo” and ” Meg.” Illustrated, 
ibmo. Cloth, j^i.50. 



MISS ALCOTT’S NOVELS 

WORK, A STORY OF EXPERIENCE, 

MOODS, A NOVEL. 

A MODERN MEPHISTOPHELES. 

HOSPITAL SKETCHES AND CAMP AND FIRESIDE STORIES, 
x^mo. Cloth. $1.50. Four volumes, uniform, in box, $6.00 


THE SPINNING-WHEEL SERIES 

t 

BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT 



SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES. I PROVERB STORIES. 

A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. • | SILVER PITCHERS. 

i 6 mo. Cloth. Illustrated. £ach, $1.2$. FourvolumeSf 
uniform^ in box, $ 5.00 

Miss Alcott has a faculty of entering into the lives and feelings of 
children, and to this cause, to the consciousness among her readers that 
they are hearing about people like themselves, instead of abstract qualities 
labelled with names, the popularity of her books is due. —Sarah J. 
Hale. 

Miss Alcott is always welcome, not only to the boys and girls she 
has taken under her special patronage, but also to their elders. . . . Miss 
Alcott’s stories are thoroughly healthy, full of racy fun and humor, even 
when she is teaching some extra hard task which must be learned and 
accomplished. ■ — London Athenceum. 

CONTENTS. 

SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES. Grandma’s Story ; Tabby’s Table- 
Cloth ; Eli’s Education ; Onawandah ; Little Things ; The Banner oi 
Beaumanoir ; Jerseys, or the Girl’s Ghost ; Ihe Little House in the 
Garden ; Daisy’s Jewel-Box, and how she filled it ; Corny’s Cata- 
mount ; The Cooking Class ; The Hare and the Tortoise. 

A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. May Flowers; An Ivy Spray aud Ladies’ 
Slippers; Pansies; Water-Lilies ; Poppies and Wheat ; Little Button- 
Rose; Mountain-Laurel and Maidenhair. 

SILVER PITCHERS. This volume contains, in addition to the title 
story, Transcendental Wild Oats; The Romance of a Summer Day; 
My Rococo Watch ; By the River, a Legend of the Assabet ; Letty’s 
Tramp ; Scarlet Stockings ; Independence. 

PROVERB STORIES. Kitty’s Class Day, Aunt Kipp; Psyche’s Art; 
A Country Christmas; On Picket Duty; My Red Cap; What the 
Bells Saw and Said ; The Baron’s Gloves. 


AUNT JO’S SCRAP-BAG 

BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT 



1 



COUSIN HEBB. 


MY BOYS. Tessa’s Surprises; Buzz; The Children’s Joke ; Dande* 
lion ; Madam Cluck and Her Family ; A Curious Call ; Tilly’s Christ- 
mas ; My Little Gentleman ; etc. 

SHAWL-STRAPS. A voyage to Brittany, France, Switzerland, Italy, 
and London. 

CUPID AND CHOW-CHOW. Huckleberry; Nelly’s Hospital; 
Grandma’s Team ; P'airy Pinafores ; Mamma’s Plot; Kate’s Choice ; 
The Moss People; What Fanny Heard ; and A Marine Merry-Making. 

MY GIRLS. Lost in a London Fog; The Boy’s Joke, and who got the 
best of it; Roses and Forget-me-nots; Old Major; What the Girls 
Did; Little Neighbors; Marjorie’s Three Gifts; etc. 

JIMMY’S CRUISE TN THE PINAFORE. Two Little Travellers ; 
A Jolly Fourth; Seven Black Cats ; Rosa’s Tale; Lunch; A Bright 
Idea; How They Camped Out; My Little School Girl; etc. 

AN OLD-FASHIONED THANKSGIVING. How it All Happened; 
The Doll’s Journev from Minnesota to Maine; Morning Glories; 
Shadow Children ; Poppy’s Pranks ; What the Swallows Did ; etc. 

l6mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Each, $i.oo. Six volumes^ 
uniform, in box, $6.00 



LULU’S LIBRARY 

BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT 



VOL. I. A CHRISTMAS DREAM; The Candy Country; Naughty 
Jocko; The Skipping Shoes; Cockyloo ; Rosy’s Journey; Ho'W 
They Ran Away ; The Fairy Box ; A Hole in the Wall ; The Piggy 
Girl ; The Three Frogs ; and Baa ! Baa 1 

VoL. II. THE FROST KING AND HOW THE FAIRIES CON- 
QUERED HIM; Lilybell and Thistledown, or the Fairy Sleeping 
Beauty; Ripple the Water Sprite; Eva’s Visit to Fairyland; Sun- 
shine and Her Brothers and Sisters ; The Fairy Spring ; Queen 
Aster; The Brownie and the Princess; Mermaids; Little Bud; 
The Blower’s Story. 

VoL. III. RECOLLECTIONS OF MY CHILDHOOD; A Christ- 
mas Turkey and How it Came ; The Silver Party ; The Blind Lark ; 
Music and Macaroni; The Little Red Purse; Sophie’s Secret; 
Dolly’s Bedstead ; and Trudel’s Siege. 

Three volumes. i 6 mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Each, $i.oo 
The three volumes, uniform, in box, $ 3.00 



MISS ALCOTT’S LITTLE WOMEN 


AN ILLUSTRATED EDITION OF THIS FAMOUS BOOK 


PVtiA nearly two hundred characteristic designs 
Drawn and engraved expressly for this work 



“Go then, my little book, and show to all 
That entertain and bid thee welcome shall, 

What thou dost keep close shut up in thy breast ; 
And wish what thou dost show them may be blest 
To them for good, may make them choose to be 
Pilgrims better, by far, than thee or me.” 

— Preface. 

Ont volume. Small Cloth, with emblematic 
cover design. $2.50 


EDITION ^oF Mrs. Ewing’s Stories 

IN TEN VOLUMES 


JAN OF THE WINDMILL 

A Story of the Plains. With illustrations by Mrs. Allingham. i6mo. 
Cloth. 50 cents. 

SIX TO SIXTEEN 

A Story for Girls. With 10 illustrations by Helen Patterson. i6mo. 
Cloth. 50 cents. 

A GREAT EMERGENCY, and Other Tales 
With illustration. i6mo. Cloth. 50 cents. 

WE AND THE WORLD 

A Story for Boys. With 10 illustrations. i6mo. Cloth. 50 cents. 

MRS. OVERTHEWAY’S REMEMBRANCES 

Ten illustrations. i6mo. Cloth. 50 cents. A Series of Short Stories 
which are supposed to be told by a nice old lady to a little girl invalid. 

JACKANAPES, and Other Tales 

Comprising “Jackanapes,” “Daddy Darwin’s Dovecot,” and “The Story 
of a Short Life.” With*a sketch of Mrs. Ewing’s Life, hy her sister, 
Horatia K. F. Gatty. With portrait and illustrations. i6mo. Cloth. 
50 cents. 

MELCHIOR’S DREAM, BROTHERS OF PITY, and Other 
Tales 

With illustrations. i6mo. Cloth. 50 cents. 

LOB LIE-BY-THE-FIRE, THE BROWNIES, and Other 
Tales 

With illustrations by George Cruikshank. i6mo. Cloth. 50 cents. 

A FLATIRON FOR A FARTHING 

Wu' illustrations. i6mo. Cloth. 50 cents. 

LAST WORDS 

A Final Collection of Stories. With illustrations by H. D. Murphy. 
i6mo. 50 cents. 


LITTLE, BROWN; y COMPANY 

PublUben, 254 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON, MASS. 


BY TWO OF THE “LITTLE WOMEN.” 


V 

COMIC TRAGEDIES. 


Written by “Jo” and “Meg,” and acted by the “Little 
Women.” With a Foreword by “Meg,” Portraits of 
“Jo” and “Meg,” and a view of the house in which 
they lived. i6mo. Cloth. Uniform with Miss Alcott’s 
books. Price, $1.50. 

In the good old times, when “Little Women” worked and played 
together, the big garret was the scene of many dramatic revels. After a 
long day of teaching, sewing, and “ helping mother,” the greatest delight 
of the girls was to transform themselves into queens, knights, and cavaliers 
of high degree, and ascend into a world of fancy and romance. Cinderella’s 
godmother waved her wand, and the dismal room became a fairyland. 
Flowers bloomed, forests arose, music sounded, and lovers exchanged their 
vows by moonlight. Nothing was too ambitious to attempt, — armor, 
gondolas, harps, towers, and palaces grew as if by magic, and wonderful 
scenes of valor and devotion were enacted before admiring audiences. 

Jo, of course, played the villains, ghosts, bandits, and disdainful 
queens ; for her tragedy-loving soul delighted in the lurid parts, and no 
drama was perfect in her eyes without a touch of the demonic or super- 
natural. Meg loved the sentimental roles, the tender maiden with the airy 
robes and flowing locks, who made impossible sacrifices for ideal love..,, or 
the cavalier, singing soft serenades and performing lofty acts of gallantry 
and prowess. Amy was the fairy sprite, while Beth enacted the page or 
messenger when the scene required their aid. 

From the little stage library, still extant, the following plays have 
been selected as fair examples of the work of these children of sixteen and 
seventeen. With some slight changes and omissions, they remain as 
written more than forty years ago by Meg and Jo, so dear to the hearts of 
many other “ Little Women.” 

For sale by all booksellers^ and mailed, post-paid^ on 
receipt of price by the publishers, 

LITT1.E, BROWN, AND COMPANY, 

Boston. 


LBN '14 







-7 » 
- - • • 



, •••', •• ;’ .:» A* • , ■' 

2 Mi .' ' ^^ ■ // * • ' ' ? • * 

• • . *••* ' -^ >• • ^ V • I 

*■ \ ’ '‘v.’ ‘‘ ., 

A, »**r ''V'&t' ^ .'A. 

-y ^ ' , ’-r 



,. ' : 




•I » 


' ■ K \a -• r > ' L ' ' ‘ 

* ■ f j . , »• . 


-V •• ' " 


y • 


I 


I 

»..i 


I : 


. •’ •- 

'• \' --'A, 


« • 




J ,- 


<• 



'A' • I ‘ ^ 

.ip' 

■Vv ■ ■ •;>■'' 

*1 ^-' w- ■* • ■ ■ VSfti 

/ 8 ;^ ■ 

p * ^ % ■ ‘ ■• * i'. . • ■ 

• ', V'l 




I . 

• ^ ' 


•!', ’^lATTr^ Ij ' . ' i 

111 • » .^-- r 

« ' • ’ . • ' 


V-:. 

I • ■ I • 

-y . • .. 




> I 

7/ 




. ^ • 


- I 




I 


r; . ?' 'i V ' ^ ■’'?' 


♦♦ 


. ^ 




■:n 


• 1 




« 

't T 


/t- • \ • ' . :•'• ' \{ • ' • 

■V' • . , • • , ■ ■ „• ' ■■•‘i' ■' .' 44 ^^- 

.1 -T.'^vVi • 



IV 



•*> I •• . ^ * •* ’ ' 

f ■■ 'Vy",. '-: '•■ ' •. /,> - '«■ 


, • 




I. 



\y/' 


* i •' ' 

’ kfc r 




A ^ 

'* '- ■■ .'kV' ■ L'Aa*^ 

* . •' . I < 

,♦1 • 1 ^ . « . 


•h’ 



■* # 


I >. ' * ^Ik'* '^V* y 

i* . *■' N 



I \ *. 




lA 


\»' f \ 


\k^ 



HiBi 




\ 


/‘ 


* 




-V - 1 . 


. “ .-r 



T •" 


1 ^; 


- 4 ., 



f» . I 


llo* 


r f 


u.^>i- -i.v 

V I' 


* 




•' I 




1 1 


■ I 


r 




'v 

' ■ " " «;• 

*■ , ; ^ ;.^f 

' / \ ■ 


*Vi 


. I *• 


.W‘ 






.< H? 


t •' 


^ 1 




iV 




. , --r - , > 1 . -"<^31 

■-' ■> •fc,..': 


_ t 




» . «» 




. ♦ 






/t'. 


‘ . • ‘r*'' i-’ -■ ' 

' ■ -. ' . • >/ ' ji 



b 


iy^ 4 v-:v%- 



J 


vj. 






V 


m 

fc >.' •**■ 1 V * • r ' ’ 


< ^ 





4 « 


V'. 


fe-:- 



i . i . . - , ^ Ai' /-•; - ' ■ . V -T. 

’V\ • j. \ ♦. -•.'•«■• 

r * * • • * 10 - 

* ^^\->, ' *' t- ■ i.T» ; w .'. ■ 

' ■ ^ ^ y ,V. •' -^ >i w '• 



rJ 



I •> 


. . .* 

^ V. 

ri/f v.j .v’f 


EM-.'' =r_‘ - 

^ aw'! 

1 ^ I . ♦ 






I 


.V 


o • X 


* * ^ ^ • -t - o o 

9 ^ **-^ ^ ^ 

v^ aO ,. '< * o^ v^ » 





VA 


• -• 




<. *-...• -&^ O, 



^ o 

A • 

^ -'O ♦ * 

- O, 

^’- ^ * 

^■‘ ^ V 

.* n'5 ^ A 

A-y -»^ “•• 

o 

" v 



<A *"T7. • *0^ o -o . * '• 



■» 'o 

• X ^ • 

o dkV »• 

♦ . i o’* .0'^ 

<0^ ^ t * o . 




0 N 0 


.Vi* . 0 ^ 



°. : 
»* ^\. % 


O' v 









V •. ^ *»*o’ ^0 ♦ • , 1 • ^ 

.'ydlS^v 




; . 

.“ V 


&? d M/ JS&My ♦ A V » 

y ^ tp ^ 

'■'’•** <A ’■'T'r.’ -G’’ -. 



. ^4 ^ 

- A ♦ 

<^> 

.-^ .'^■5SS?k-*r-. ■^. C" ♦VvT;???,’. 


♦ '^» *0 

^ ^ i 


<* *'T'.'i*\o^ '"'^ 

. o « o ^ p;^ . V ' • ^ 


library 


OF CONGRESS 



D00E1540b43 



